


Stage Fright

by friedenskind



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Doctor Anders, Flirting, Haircuts, Hairdresser Fenris, M/M, Modern AU, Pining, Slow Build, Street Harassment, Theatre AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-09 02:39:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 32,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5522354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/friedenskind/pseuds/friedenskind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders moves to Kirkwall and meets Fenris in less than ideal circumstances. Then his old friend Garrett Hawke convinces him to join his theatre group - where Anders and Fenris meet again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thecryoftheseagulls](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecryoftheseagulls/gifts).



> This was written as part of the Fenders Family Secret Santa for thecryoftheseagulls! I hope you like it :)  
> Since it got a bit longer than originally planned, I will post a chapter or two each day until the gifting period ends. Ratings might change.
> 
> The first chapter contains homophobic language - I promise this is the only time it happens though.
> 
> Big thanks to the abundance of people who helped and supported me!

When the men following him didn’t stop at the stairs leading to Darktown, Anders knew he was fucked. He was already walking fast, shoulders pulled up to his ears, but somehow he couldn’t seem to shake off the two drunkards.

“Why so fast, pretty boy?” One of them yelled and his companion joined in on the laughter, a sound that only grew louder when Anders stumbled. Cursing, he sped up even more, feeling his stomach twist when the footsteps behind him grew faster as well.

Darktown was quiet around them, and while Anders was sure there were more than a few people still awake despite the late hour, he wasn’t surprised to find himself seemingly alone with the two other men who had started to shout obscenities again.

It wasn’t the first time Anders wistfully thought back to earlier that night when after long hours of catching up after years of separation, Karl had offered to give him a ride home once he realized how late it was and the buses were no longer running – especially the ones to Darktown. Anders had laughed and waved off his friend’s worries. He had lived in Kirkwall long enough by now, and besides, Karl lived near the Chantry in Hightown. What could possibly happen to him in the best district of the city?

Well, he had miscalculated. Hightown had the same amount of late-night drunks who liked to pester random pedestrians, though they seemed considerably more persistent than most of the other drunks Anders had encountered before.

His breath came in short puffs, clouds against the cool night air. He tried to think of anything else but cold, dark corridors and mocking laughter when the voices behind him grew louder again, which were suddenly much, much closer than he had anticipated.

“Hey, faggot, how about you show your betters some respect before we make you?”

A heavy hand landed on his shoulder and Anders whipped around, eyes wide and fists clenched.

“Leave me alone!” His voice didn’t tremble but was much higher than usual as he jerked away, breathing out in relief when the hand slipped away.

The man who had held him back was close and bald.Perhaps under different circumstances his bright blue eyes might have been attractive, but the drunken haze clearly visible in them stopped any thought in that direction immediately. That and the way he squinted with what seemed like rage, anger, or something far more dangerous glinting in his eyes.

“Otto, I believe we’ve got t’ teach this one a lesson,” His companion said, licking his lips in an all too eager way, though it might have been to get the taste of beer foam still clinging to his scruffy – and wet – beard he sported on his cheeks.

Anders swallowed thickly and wished he had listened more closely to Lirene when she told another girl in the clinic about how she always went home holding her keys between her fingers so they’d act as a weapon should she be assaulted on the streets at night.  
  
As it was, his keys were safely in the pocket of his coat, unreachable with his trembling fingers that he couldn’t unclench from the fist he had formed, knuckles white and nails digging into the soft flesh of his palm.

He turned and ran, or at least tried to, but this time the hand clamping down on his shoulder was much firmer, throwing him around and into the nearby wall of a house they’d passed.

“Ah-ah, not so fast,” The bald man murmured, his voice surprisingly clear now as he held Anders with his fists roughly twisted into the front of his coat.

“Let me go!”

“Oh, we will, but only after we show you what awaits all faggots like you in-”

“Hey.”

A new voice, deep and gravelly, seemed to cut through the air while not being loud at all, causing the heads of Anders and the two men to turn – the former in hesitant relief, the latter in confusion at being interrupted.

Facing them just a few feet away stood another man in tight jeans and sneakers despite the cold late-autumn night. His posture was relaxed, hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, and from under the black beanie – really his only admission to the weather – poked wisps of white hair.

The man holding Anders – Otto? – scoffed and dismissed the newcomer, but his friend with the red beard positioned himself between them and the intruder, rolling his shoulders.

“See, man, we’ve got no beef with you, so either you fuck off or--“

“I believe he told you to let him go,” The man with the white hair demanded, still sounding oddly calm despite the situation, as he pulled his hands from his pockets and let them fall loosely to his sides. Somehow he managed to look threatening just by standing there.

Now it was Red-Beard-Guy’s turn to squint.

“What’s it to you?”

Anders was sweating, eyes darting from the blue eyes close to his face to the other two men at his side, wishing that White-Hair-Guy would finally make up his mind about whether he was here to help or not so that Anders knew how to handle the fragile flutter of hope in his chest – stuff it or cling tighter.

He decided to ignore it completely when he witnessed the exact moment Otto realized the newest addition to their merry round was going to stay and most likely cause trouble. The second Otto’s hands on his collar loosened, Anders dashed away, ignoring the sound of fabric ripping as he ducked around Red-Beard-Guy to hide behind White-Hair-Guy.

 _Idiot, you should have kept running!_ However, there was no time to scold himself though because Otto and his friend were closing in on them, decidedly furious.

Before they could make a move or growl threats or insults, the stranger – hopefully Anders’ saviour – spoke up again.

“Fuck off. There’s nothing here for you.”

Red-Beard spat, “What do you care? It’s just another one of those faggots! You his boyfriend or what?”

The man, who Anders now realized was smaller than him (he had to hunch over to duck behind him), didn’t seem to have a reply for Red-Beard’s accusation and only crossed his arms in response. At that moment, Anders’ brain decided it was time to _improvise._

“Yes! He is my boyfriend.”

Three pairs of eyes turned to look at him almost comically and Anders cringed,  _Oh sweet Maker..._

Luckily, it was Sneakers-And-Beanie who caught himself first and took a step forward, raising his chin in challenge.

“I won’t repeat myself again – fuck _off_.”

Now his voice was a growl, deep and rumbling, which Anders could feel resonate through his core. It was threatening, but it wasn’t aimed at _him,_ and that made him feel oddly elated as he watched the two others sway with uncertainty. The two somehow shrank under the gaze of the man who was smaller than both of them, who still managrf to look down on them.

Suddenly, one of them said, “Come on, Karras, we’re done here.”

A breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding escaped Anders as the two vanished around a corner. Without realizing it sooner, he had to crouch down when his knees suddenly gave in, the stress and fear crashing down on him as well as a huge wave of relief.

“Thank you!” He gasped, teeth chattering, but not because of the cold. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself and will the feelings of darkness and dread away.

“Don’t mention it.”

Anders looked up in surprise to see that the stranger was already walking away, hands back in his pockets and slouching slightly.

“Ah, wait!”

He scrambled to his feet quickly and, after a few fast steps, the other stopped in their tracks, looking back over his shoulder at Anders.

Anders could feel his heart pounding as he opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Instead, he found his attention drawn to something on the stranger’s chin and neck, something white against the dark skin…

“You know, I am not actually your boyfriend,” The man said wryly as one of his dark eyebrows rose.

_So he dyes his hair. Of course he dyes his hair, nobody has white hair like that. Nobody that young, at least..._

Anders realized he’d been staring with his mouth opened and shut it with a clack, clearing his throat awkwardly.

“Ah, yes, of course. I know,” He laughed nervously. Oh Maker, of all the things he could have said, why did he have to say _that_? If Surana ever found out about this, she would strangle him… or laugh; one could never be quite sure with her. Yet if it was up to Anders, nobody would ever find out about it.

“I, ah, wanted to thank you for... intervening. I don’t know what… I’d have done if...” He trailed off, feeling incredibly silly under the unimpressed gaze. His doe-eyes were round and green if the street lights didn’t fool him, and the lines on his chin were definitely tattoos, white and beautiful on his dark skin that lead down into the line of his collar.

“Yeah, you already thanked me.”

That voice – and Andraste’s ass, what a voice it was – tore Anders from his thoughts once more and he shook his head, quickly taking another step forward and reaching out as if to touch the other, only to lower his hand again.

“Yes…I mean no! I’d like to thank you more… What was your name again?”

“I didn’t tell you my name.”

At loss for words once again, Anders winced, but swallowed and decided that he wouldn’t be discouraged so quickly.

“Ah, of course not. Well, I’d still like to thank you properly. I could buy you a drink if you wanted.”

The other’s eyebrow rose, but at least the guy turned around so he was fully facing him again.

“I doubt there are any reputable establishments still open at this hour.”

Anders felt his hands clench into fists again – this was getting frustrating, “Well, it doesn’t have to be now, you know.”

A sigh slipped through the other’s lips as he raised a hand to rub his face when Anders noticed that his slim hands and long fingers were tattooed with pale lines as well.

“Look,” He sighed, deep voice sounding strained, “You can stop trying. If you want me to walk you home, you could have just asked.”

“Oh? Oh! I wasn’t trying to— “ Before he could finish, Anders closed his mouth, thinking about it. It wasn’t quite what he had had in mind, but if he offered… “I mean, yeah, I would like that.”

After some awkward gesturing on Anders’ part and heavy sighing from his companion, Anders led the way through the streets of Darktown.

The usually familiar way had never taken so long. Any attempts at conversation were shot down before they had a real chance to begin, but Anders felt obligated to try every so often.

“So… you often wander around Darktown in the middle of the night?”

“No.”

“Oh.” More silence followed until Anders spoke up again, “I only moved here recently. I was visiting a friend in Hightown and we lost track of time, so when I left it was this late already.”

“Huh.”

Anders sighed. This was hopeless.

“I’m Anders by the way,” He started as last attempt of getting any sort of reaction from the other before giving up.

“Okay.”

The rest of the way Anders stayed silent – not pouting, he told himself – shoulders hunched against the cold – not in frustration – and yet he couldn’t help but eye the man walking besides him.

He wasn’t exactly slouching, but he was also far from having a perfect posture and seemed completely indifferent towards the icy wind that found its way under Anders’ scarf and heavy coat. His footsteps were silent on the pavement and while his steps were firm, they held a sure grace, not exactly like a cat but definitely predatory.

Anders felt a bit sheepish for comparing the man to an animal, even one as perfect as a cat, and quickly focused on something else, finding himself drawn to the white hair and tattoos again. He had never seen anything like it before, at least not outside of photoshopped images on the internet, but the man beside him was definitely real. Anders wondered if there was a story behind the tattoos and whether they went all the way over his body like the swirls on his neck and wrists suggested, unable to be anything but intrigued.

Lost in thought, he almost missed the entrance to his apartment complex and stumbled to a stop.

“Ah, I live here,” He said plainly and pointed at the door once his companion had stopped and turned to him, raising a brow when Anders only kept staring at him.

“What, want me to kiss you goodbye? Come up and tuck you in?” It was almost a chuckle and for the first time that night, his lips twitched upwards - _Sweet Andraste, help me_ \- into a smirk.

Anders found himself smiling back and shrugged, “Well if you’re asking like that…”

The other man scoffed, but there was no bite in it as he shook his head and took a step back and Anders could have sworn he was chuckling under his breath.

“Still not your boyfriend. Take care, Anders.”

For some reason hearing his name spoken by that rough voice made Anders feel oddly elated and he watched the other leave before he got his keys and went inside.


	2. Chapter 2

Anders was woken up by the sound of his phone buzzing on the nightstand. He reached out for it and promptly slapped his knuckles against the hard wall – he was not used to his flat in Kirkwall yet, and back in Amaranthine his nightstand had been on the other side of the bed.

He cursed sleepily and grumbled as he reached for his phone, not bothering to check the time or the caller ID.

“Andraste’s knickerweasels, Justice, I swear if you don’t stop calling me in morning I—”

_“Anders!”_

He blinked in confusion. That wasn’t his brother’s voice. It wasn’t an unfamiliar voice either though. In fact, he knew that voice very well, even though he had never expected to hear it from a sudden call on the phone.

“Hawke?!”

 _“Oh Anders, it really is you!”_ Garrett Hawke boomed from the other end of the line, his hearty laugh sounding from the speaker as Anders sat up and brushed wild strands of hair aside.

_“Long time no see, my friend! Is it true? You’re in Kirkwall?”_

“Yes, I-- How do you know?”

_“Oh, I have my sources.”_

Anders couldn’t help but grin as he stumbled in the kitchen to prepare some tea and breakfast – or lunch, really, he realized as he saw the current time.

Hawke was an old friend of his from high school and college, and it would be no exaggeration to say that he had changed Anders’ life. Hawke was built like a jock, but he was really more of a nerdy kid, greeting Anders with a grin and slap on the shoulder on his first day at the school, volunteering to show him around and promptly recruiting him for the Theatre Club, which Anders assumed had been the whole motive of the action. Ulterior motives or not, they became fast friends soon after and stayed friendly when their ways parted after school, Anders pursuing a career as a doctor and Hawke… well, he hadn’t quite known what to do with himself back then and started an apprenticeship as a mechanic, though Anders wasn’t sure if he had ever actually finished it. Maker knew Hawke could afford not to with his mother inheriting a massive amount of money from her family of would-be nobles.

Would-be nobles of Kirkwall, no less.

 _“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you moved to Kirkwall!”_ Hawke scolded, but sounded far from angry. Anders wasn’t quite sure if Hawke _could_ be angry because the man always seemed cheerful, bursting with energy.

“Well, first I was busy in Amaranthine, and then all the stress from moving…”

Truth be told, Anders hadn’t really thought about Hawke at all. He hadn’t forgotten about him, but there were simply other things on his mind: his job, or jobs to be precise, moving his things across the Waking Sea – part of his wardrobe still hadn’t arrived – meeting up with Karl…

 _“Alright, but as soon as you’ve settled in we’ve got to meet up!”_ Hawke laughed and began to babble about how they had to meet soon and this time Anders was distracted by the soft meow of Ser Pounce-A-Lot who hopped on the kitchen counter and demanded attention.

One question caught Anders’ attention though.

_“Say, are you still interested in theatre?”_

Anders put the phone between shoulder and his ear as he filled Pounce’s bowl with cat food.

“Yeah, I suppose I am,” He drawled a bit hesitantly, wondering if he had ever mentioned Surana to Hawke.

_“Great! You see, some friends and me have this group going for a while... but one of the members recently had to leave, got some family business back at home or something, real serious stuff. That leaves us one man short.”_

Anders would be lying if what Hawke was suggesting didn’t make him feel even the tiniest bit excited. He missed acting, but after what happened in Amaranthine…

“Hawke, thank you for the offer but… I’m really busy. I have two jobs here already; I really don’t have time for--“

_“Oh, don’t worry about that! We’re just a hobby group, doing it all for fun. Some small plays and mostly improvisation theatre with a small and familial show every now and then. You’ll love it!”_

“Hawke...”

_“Don’t ‘Hawke’ me. Come on, at least come to one of our rehearsals, meet the crew and all. You could just come by and do the usual workouts with us, no strings attached or anything.”_

Anders felt his resolve falter.

_“Please, Anders. I promise you’ll like it. Besides, everyone needs a hobby.”_

“I have hobbies,” Anders huffed and flopped on his couch, smiling when Pounce followed up and curled on his stomach.

_“Anders, a cat doesn’t count as a hobby.”_

They argued on the subject of cats and hobbies, and when Anders finally put the phone away, it buzzed again with another message from Hawke – the address of the pub where he and his theatre group met for training (how a pub of all things was fit for theatre was beyond Anders’ imagination) and the dates of their practice sessions over the next few weeks (he was welcome to stop by anytime, Hawke had assured him).

Anders frowned as he stared down on the screen of his phone, then sighed and looked out the window. It was raining, making Kirkwall appear even greyer than the usual dull and dirty. But it was his home now, and maybe it wasn’t so bad to meet up with Hawke and his friends for theatre.

 _It doesn’t have to be serious_ , Anders reminded himself, but he was smiling as he made his way to the bathroom to properly start his day.


	3. Chapter 3

It took Anders several weeks to properly settle down in Kirkwall.

Many nights ended with him falling into bed completely exhausted, but after a while all the moving was done, his flat was furnished, his belongings neatly put away (thought it was only a matter of time until they’d be strewn all over the place again), and he was getting used to his work schedules.

His main job was at the Kirkwall Chantry Hospital where he was employed as pediatrician – though he was beginning to suspect they only put that on his paycheck as a formality to pay him less than a normal senior physician, but seeing as he had only just started working there, he was in no position to complain.

As soon as he had a firm schedule at the hospital, he began to work regular shifts at a free clinic in Darktown, a project he had been organizing with a fellow doctor named Lirene. He had been thrilled to finally meet her after nearly three years of online correspondence. To be able to actually work in the clinic he helped build (figuratively) was like a dream come true, even though it was exhausting and left him with little free time.

He felt a bit bad for leaving Pounce alone so much, but the cat seemed pacified as long as he was allowed to claim Anders’ pillow when his owner was actually sleeping, despite it causing Anders to wake up with tense muscles in his neck and shoulders.

He’d been meeting with Karl every once in a while and managed to see Hawke, even if it was only for a quick stroll through Lowtown with the burly man’s equally burly dog, which was imaginatively called Dog.

Hawke had prodded him about the theatre group again and eventually Anders had given in and agreed to stop by sometime – though he was beginning to wonder if Hawke had given him the wrong address.

He was in Lowtown and the shield over the door clearly said The Hanged Man (not in letters but quite a bit more visualized) and Anders wondered if there was another establishment with that name in the immediate area, for the one he was standing in front of right now was closed during the early hours of afternoon.

Anders double checked the texts Hawke had sent him – nope, time and place were still right. He hesitantly tried for the door and almost jumped back in surprise when the handle lowered easily and unlocked it, laughter drifting outside through the crack.

Maybe he hadn’t been wrong at all. After shrugging off the unnecessary nervousness, Anders stepped inside.

The Hanged Man wasn’t exactly shabby, but it was far from the best place Anders had ever been to, but also not nearly the worst. There was a bar to one side of the room, the rest filled with tables rather than booths, and some stairs that led either to a second level or some private rooms in the back where the voices were coming from.

Anders could now hear Hawke amidst the noise which was actually loud enough to not be drowned out by his booming voice that slowly faded out into a shrill whistling.

Wondering what he was getting himself into, Anders took the stairs and followed the noise into another room which was rather big with a few chairs and a big table shoved into one corner to create free space.

Some people were sitting with some standing at the side cheering for a woman in a tank top and hot pants layered over fashionably ripped tights who was doing some decidedly suggestive dance all over a mortified looking man who sat in a chair in the middle of the room – a man who Anders recognized as Hawke’s younger brother, Carver.

“Seems like I’ve arrived just when the fun started,” He interjected after clearing his throat and did his best to look nonchalant when several heads turned into his direction.

“Anders!” Hawke cried out, practically pouncing at him, pulling Anders into a crushing hug before dragging him over to the group of people.

“I’m so glad you came! Guys, this is Anders, the friend who I’ve talked about bringing over before.”

“What, _you’re_ Anders? I thought Hawke was making you up this whole time!”

The woman who previously had been dancing was suddenly at his side, taking his arms firmly as she looked him up and down appreciatively. Her hair was a wave of black going over into bright turquoise ombré, tamed by some sort of bandana. She managed to pull off the big golden hoops in her ears and the heavy necklace like no one Anders had ever seen before. After fully looking her up and down, he gave her a polite but slightly confused smile due to her sudden proximity.

“I’m Isabela,” She said with a wink, “But you can call me Bela.”

“Doesn’t everyone call you Bela?” Another woman with a dark pixie cut and cute face chirped up. It took Anders a second to realize the question had been genuine.

“Everyone she allows to,” Hawke butted in jovially, beginning with the rest of the introductions.

“That’s Merrill,” He introduced, gesturing to the big eyed girl who asked a question.

“Varric,” Hawke stated as his hand moved to a stocky man with broad shoulders and an abundance of chest hair, visible thanks to his mostly unbuttoned shirt, who waved at him.

“And I’m sure you remember Carver and Bethany?”

Carver stood up from the chair looking no less displeased while Bethany, Carver’s twin and Hawke’s younger sister, waved cheerily at Anders. Both sported the same dark hair as Hawke though, while Bethany seemed to be able to tame it and Hawke at least managed to pull off the messy bed hair look without actually doing anything for it, Carver had cut his shorter which was not entirely flattering for his face, Anders thought. At least not clean shaven as he was, unlike his brother who cultivated a well-trimmed beard.

Anders was still shaking hands and exchanging greetings when there was another voice from the doorway that made him tense.

“I see you’ve started without me.”

Anders whipped around and stared as Hawke made a pleased noise and walked over to welcome the newcomer.

“Ah, I’m glad you could come today! The friend I’ve been talking about decided to join us today. This is Anders.”

They fell into step with each other as they walked over to the group.

Green eyes widened slightly as they saw him and Anders swallowed as he took in the white hair and tattoos on dark skin he would have recognized anywhere.

It was the man from that night a few weeks ago.

“This is Fenris.”

 

***

 

“He’s cute, right?”  Garrett whispered about an hour later, startling Anders.

After introductions and some small talk, they began training – as it turned out, the group preferred improvisation theatre. Anders was familiar with the concept, but it had been a while since he last played it himself, but hearing about the different games, the training methods and warming up exercises made his fingers itch and a giddy excitement flooded him; something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

For now he was just watching though, following Merrill’s and Isabela’s movements across the stage as they tried to come up with ways to incorporate three random objects (a pack of tampons, courtesy of Isabela, a potted plant from the window sill and a worry stone from Bethany that she insisted was in an abstract shape and definitely _not_ phallic) into the plot they were developing.

Merrill was doing a fantastic job playing a conservative father figure, puffing up her slim chest and stomped across their stage with a grumpy face, waving the tampons around as she held a lengthy rant about safe sex while Isabela lounged on the floor, one arm thrown around the potted plant, making a pouty face and speaking in a higher voice to fit better into her role of whiny teenager at the cusp of her sexual evolution.

It was funny and Anders was watching with rapt attention, though he couldn’t help but send glances to the other side of the room where Fenris sat with Carver.

Seeing him again made Anders oddly nervous for reasons he couldn’t quite pin down; possibly because the whole situation in which they had met had been somewhat of an embarrassment for him. He hadn’t told anyone about it, especially not Justice (who would have been livid) and also not Karl (how would he even bring up such a topic?) though he had made a point to learn about the bus routes and timetables to his apartment and even looked into local offers for cheap second-hand cars, only to scrap the idea and focus on the former.

“So _that’s_ your name!” He stated to Fenris cheerfully in place of a greeting, receiving a surprised glance from Hawke.

“You know each other?”

“Well, kind of,” Anders’ mouth babbled on before he could stop himself, “He was my boyfriend. For one night.”

Apparently his brain was set on embarrassing himself even more.

Isabela had gawped with sparkling eyes as Hawke looked stunned, but Fenris only raised a brow, an amused twitch playing around his lips.

“Really, it was more like for a few minutes.”

That had Isabela on the floor crumpling with laughter, wheezing something about how she thought he’d last longer and Anders quickly explained that it had only been to divert the attention of some douchebags, which was close enough to the truth.

Things had calmed down quickly after that, even though Anders still felt a little flustered and wondered what had possessed him in that moment. It hadn’t helped that Hawke looked at him funny for the next few minutes, but luckily he was soon back to normal – aside from whispering to him while two of his friends were playing.

“Who, Carver?” Anders pretended to be oblivious.

“What? No! I mean Fenris, of course!”

“Ah, I guess,” Anders said casually – he hadn’t been staring, had he? “His… looks are really intriguing. I’ve never seen tattoos like that.”

Hawke threw him a side glance that clearly meant that he saw through what Anders was doing.

“That, too. It’s a pity he’s not looking for anything at the moment, though.”

“Looking for what?”

“Anders, please. You haven’t been able to tear your eyes off him the minute he stepped through this door. You’re clearly smitten.”

“I’m not--!”

“Shush!” Bethany threw with a half-annoyed, half-questioning look that shut them both up before they settled into their seats and watched the play before resuming their conversation more quietly.

“He’s attractive, Anders, I mean... damn! I don’t blame you. So before you get anything into your head…” Anders looked darkly at Hawke, but the man only shrugged.

“I’m just saying; he’s not looking,” Then, more quietly, “I know from first-hand experience.”

It wasn’t often that Hawke sounded small, but the way he said it made him sound more like a shy kitten than the huge man he was.

Anders shifted uncomfortably.

Part of him wanted to puff up and walk over to Fenris right then, yelling at him for… doing what? Dumping Hawke? He didn’t even know what happened between them, or if anything had happened at all. But it was painfully obvious that Hawke had been hurt (or was hurting?) and it was because of Fenris.

Another part of him wanted to reel back and assure Hawke that he wasn’t going to pursue anything with Fenris, and that he wasn’t interested or staring at him for anything but the exotic tattoos, but for some reason that felt like lying.

Which it wasn’t.

He straightened in his chair and turned to Hawke, reaching out to touch his shoulder.

“I am not looking for anything either,” He said calmly. It was true, too – he wasn’t actively looking for a relationship, and even though a few years ago he still happily brought people home for a night or two, he was past that phase as well. He didn’t mind being alone, and between Justice, Pounce, and work he couldn’t possibly imagine anyone he would be willing to put up with… all that, with _him_ anyways.

“I don’t even know him. He’s easy on the eyes, I give him that, but that’s not enough to make me want to raise his adopted babies. Besides…” It was good to see Hawke relax and chuckle beside him again. “He was my hero for one night already – or well, a few minutes. I’ve had my fair share of him, I believe.”

They exchanged grins and turned back to the middle of the room where Merrill spread the tampons all over the floor and Isabela was pretending to be passionately making out with the plant, the worry stone in her hand in a way that definitely referred to its more phallic qualities.

The scene soon ended after Varric cut in and Isabela stood with a grin, shaking crumbs of potting soil out of her hair as she took Merrill’s hand to bow exuberantly while the others clapped, proceeding to then discuss the play together with the others, working out which parts were good and what points needed improvement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who isn't familiar with improvisation theatre: There is no script and the actors are coming up with plots, jokes and everything right on the spot, all according to prompts (or in this specific case, objects) they get from the audience. There are different formats you can use for scenes, like the one with the objects, and next chapter will be about another one called Two Rooms.  
> It's super fun both to watch and to play and I highly recommend trying it out :)


	4. Chapter 4

Anders only talked to Fenris about an hour later. He eventually joined the plays and even though he felt a bit rusty, it was easy to just let go and let himself be swept away by the excitement of being on stage, given ridiculous prompts that he could turn into heart clenching drama, suggestive romance or humour that had the rest of the group falling from their chairs from laughter – he could turn it into anything in the blink of an eye, a single word or gesture, provided that his partner (or partners) cooperated.

Playing with Hawke was easiest – despite the years they hadn’t seen each other, they still knew the one another and were able to recognize small hints of body language or gestures which all came back naturally to them as if their last play together had been yesterday.

It helped that he was comfortable around Hawke and that he didn’t have to wonder if it was okay to touch or scream at him. But even if he was with the others, it was fine. Isabela seemed to actively encourage touching and Anders had no qualms to reciprocate when it came naturally to whatever role he found himself in. Merrill was an amazing partner because while she seemed sweet and if not shy then at least demure in person, on stage she was a force to be reckoned with, always perfectly in character and so utterly sincere and genuine that he had to take a double take to make sure it was still the same person he’d been introduced to. It was addicting and he admired her for it, doing his best to keep up even though it was usually her who carried the scenes anyway.

With Bethany it was a little harder. Not because she was a bad actress or a bad partner, but because she was Hawke’s little sister and while Hawke was not Justice, he was still fiercely protective of his siblings. The rest of the group didn’t seem to treat her any differently, but Anders still remembered very vividly how livid Hawke had been whenever another boy had so much as blinked in her direction.

When she had just started high school, she once came home talking about a guy in her class who carried her sports bag for her and for the next month Hawke had insisted that he pick her up from school every day – Anders had barely managed to convince him not to follow his sister around each break.

It seemed to be better now, but Anders wasn’t about to push his luck, keeping all scenes he had with her G-rated and the humour as un-suggestive as he could manage (which turned out to be surprisingly hard – he blamed Bethany, who probably saw right through him).

Carver left early and without having set foot on the stage or having talked much at all and as it turned out, he wasn’t really part of the group anyways; he was their muscle, as they called it: always there for shows and helping, but never playing (they were still working on plans to make him play one day. So far, he dodged all attempts and they made bets with quite significant stakes on whether he was a natural talent at acting or a complete disaster).

Varric didn’t play either. He was sort of their manager, coming up with books and new ways of training and plays they could do as well as organizing the shows they did. The shows were small, all here at the Hanged Man on a low stage that could be built up in a few minutes with a manageable amount of fans, keeping the audience close and private which made it all the more fun, though lately they seemed to have gained some more popularity within Kirkwall.

That was also part of why Hawke wanted Anders to join their little group so badly. Of course, he also wanted his friend to have fun with them, but one of their members had quit recently due to family problems…or something. Anders hadn’t really understood when they talked about it, but the guy was now in Starkhaven and they were one man down just when they got more demands for shows in addition to a growing audience.

For now, Anders was only attending their training though – so far the stage-chemistry with most of the members had been fine and it was fun, but he hadn’t played with all of them yet.

That was how he found himself standing outside with Fenris, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot as he wished he brought his jacket with him and hoped the others would speed up.

Fenris didn’t seem to be cold at all. The long sleeves of his grey V-neck were pulled up and he was standing relaxed, shoulders low as he watched the moderately busy street. The street lights were already turned on even though it was only afternoon, but it was late enough in the year for night to fall early.

After a long minute, Anders noticed the shift in Fenris’ stance and tore his eyes from the white lines of ink on his bared forearm.

“No troubles getting home safely anymore?” Fenris asked, not really smiling, but also not looking grim like he had the other night.

Right. Small talk.

“Oh, no! That… usually doesn’t happen to me.”

 _Not anymore_ , a small voice said at the back of his head, but he pushed it away.

“Thank you, again. I’m really… I might laugh it off now, but I don’t even want to think about what would have happened if you hadn’t been there.”

Fenris made a little nod with his head in agreement. “It wasn’t a problem,” he responded with a shrug as Anders told himself internally that it wasn’t staring if the person was talking to him – it would be rude to look anywhere else after all. Besides, watching Fenris move, or do anything at all, was a lot more fascinating than it had any right to be.

“To be honest, I’m still not sure why I didn’t just punch the guys,” Fenris said that with a smile, a real smile and not a smirk, but it was somewhat rueful and there was a grimace there, just for a split second before it vanished again. “But I guess it was for the best – punching would have caused further trouble.”

Anders found himself nodding, “True, but I would gladly have fixed any injury you’d have gotten from punching people for me.”

The way one of Fenris’ eyebrows rose was familiar by now and Anders smiled at it, “Reassuring.”

Before they could go on with their conversation, the door was pulled open and Isabela poked her head out.

“Alright boys, playtime’s over!” She purred, leading them inside, but only after looking between them meaningfully, as if searching for something. However, she gave no further comment.

Once they were back in the stage room, she whispered to both of them – Anders first, then Fenris. They were playing a game called Two Rooms – while the actors were out of hearing range, the audience decided on different places that would be assigned to one actor each. During the scene, each of them would do their best to show what place they were supposed to be at while not knowing where the other was. However, their descriptions had to be the least bit obvious as possible, all the while making the play enjoyable for the audience.

When Isabela whispered “Strip Club” to him, Anders shot her a flat look, but she only shrugged and insisted it hadn’t been her idea before she went over to Fenris to whisper to him. His face stayed neutral as she talked to him and when she sat down, the white haired stone face stepped to Anders in the middle of their improvised stage and waited for him to signal when they’d begin.

It was like something shifted inside of Fenris. His features relaxed as he took a few steps to the side, turning a bit as he made a horizontal gesture with his flat hand as if stroking over something. He built the invisible room for the scene with gestures like that: A flat surface to one side of the stage, a table or counter maybe. Following those actions, he rose to his tiptoes to indicate that he was pulling something from a high shelf.

Anders watched. A minute passed.

It should have been boring to watch a man alone standing in an empty space, but it wasn’t boring to watch Fenris. His movements were precise, building a detailed imaginary scene around himself with small gestures and quiet sounds, a squeak from the corner of his mouth as he opened a drawer, low hissing of running water through blowing breath through his teeth, deep clicks of his tongue as he began to cut something on the table he established.

Deciding that he had seen enough, Anders entered the scene, swaggering his way over to Fenris as he made a show of looking around at imaginary dancers.

He leaned against the ‘counter’, pulling a ‘bottle’ from the ‘drawer’ and turning to Fenris with his best half-drunken grin.

“They sure are putting on a good show tonight!”

Fenris looked up at him, eyes unreadable as he continued chopping motions with his hands.

“There’s hard work behind it.”

“Hah! Yeah, I bet.”

He needed to give Fenris a clue on where he was. Mention poles? Dancing? No, too obvious.

“The girls here must be pretty athletic.”

Fenris made a noncommittal shrug and began to whistle a merry tune under his breath, still focused on what he was doing.

“Physical ability is not one of the top job requirements here, but I suppose you couldn’t do without it either,” He retorted bluntly. Anders thought about his reply as he took a sip from his ‘bottle’. Maybe Fenris was in a kitchen?

“Well...” He drawled, looking Fenris up and down appreciatively. He could hear Hawke mumbling something from the chairs and Isabella giggled quietly. “You come here often?”

Fenris looked up and put his tools away, his hands making motions that Anders recognized as turning on a switch and rubbing soap, or cream into his skin… was he washing his hands?

“I work here.”

“I didn’t realize they hired boys too!” Anders laughed more confidently than he felt about the situation and scooted closer, nudging Fenris’ shoulder with his own as he grinned salaciously.

“Do you do private rounds?”

Fenris turned to face him and smiled, not exactly flirting back, but also not oblivious and most definitely not deflecting.

“I can take custom orders, yes.”

At the back of his mind, Anders noted that this probably meant Fenris’ place was some sort of customer service environment, or maybe a store or shop, but he was mainly focused on maintaining eye contact. Maker, those eyes… he was close enough that he could see the reflection of each lash against the black of his pupil.

Fenris looked back at him, the line at the edge of his mouth showing that he was smirking slightly and his hip was cocked coyly, making Anders wonder if he would be like this if they were really flirting and not just on stage.

His monotone stage partner asked him what he’d like, so Anders sat in a chair (an actual chair) and asked him for his special move. Fenris seemed to contemplate that and went around Anders, slowly, grabbing things from the invisible surfaces or shelves or whatever around them. When he asked for his favourite colour and the occasion, Anders felt a little lost.

It got a bit awkward after that – Anders trying frantically to come up with ideas about where Fenris was supposed to be while staying in his own setting. As good as Fenris was at establishing a room, actions with his hands with no other explanation, Anders eventually completely lost track of what was supposed to be what as Fenris kept moving all over the place to grab invisible things and do _something_ with them.

Eventually, he gave up and the next time Fenris passed him, he reached out and pulled him close, strong enough to make him end up sitting in his lap, blinking and _Oh, he’s a lot heavier than he looks…_

“Now, if you keep flittering around we’ll never get to the action,” He purred, briefly hooking his finger under the seam of Fenris’ neckline in a mock motion of sliding a dollar in his cleavage.

For a moment, Fenris held perfectly still and Anders feared he had crossed a line. He immediately loosened his grip so the other could easily get away if he wanted to and wondered if the fact that Isabela and Hawke were not commenting or laughing about this was a good or bad sign.

However, Fenris relaxed and Anders continued to breathe – he hadn’t noticed he stopped for a moment’s notice – as the smaller man turned around to face Anders, sitting sideways on his lap to put a hand on his shoulder, almost the side of his neck.

“Of course the customer is king, but...” He stage-whispered, leaning in, “Being so close makes your custom order a lot _harder_.”

“ _And_ cut!” Varric shouted and clapped loudly, the others falling in with him and cheered.

Fenris stood swiftly and Anders felt his thighs flex where moments ago the other’s pelvis had dug into his muscle. He stayed seated for a moment before standing to follow Fenris back to Hawke and friends who were grinning.

“And? Where were you?” Bethany asked excitedly, looking between them and Anders suddenly thought he knew who suggested to give him strip club.

Fenris looked at him and shrugged.

“Anders was in a brothel,” He said calmly and sat, completely relaxed where Anders still felt the rush from being on stage.

“Strip club to be exact, but close enough.”

Isabela nodded and the rest of the group hummed in approval before turning to Anders.

“Ah, hm… maybe the kitchen of a restaurant? Or maybe just generally some sort of store?”

Several heads shook, but he only looked at Fenris who seemed amused by his guess, but waited patiently.

“A shop, yes, but nothing with food.”

Merrill opened her mouth to say something, but Isabela shushed her, “No, kitten, let him guess!”

Anders thought for a moment before guessing again, “Well, I could order something. Custom orders exist so it has to be something that is being made on the spot. There was water, and you were cutting something…”

A slight twitch of Fenris’ mouth made him pause.

“No?”

“It wasn’t exactly cutting.”

“Oh! Huh,” Anders felt at a loss, but thought harder. _Not cutting? But then what…_ He pushed the thought aside and tried to think of other things. What had Fenris asked him? His favourite colour, if there was an occasion…

“Oh! Flowers! A flower shop!”

A cheer went around the room and Fenris nodded, smiling.

As it turned out, what Anders thought had been chopping motions was actually supposed to be Fenris loosening the earth in a pot. Well.

His scene partner received compliments for building the room around him while Anders apparently had been a nice and subtle drunk, not overdoing it, but adding just enough for it to be obvious, though in the end they could have given each other better clues.

Fenris and Isabela left after that, both having other appointments in the evening and the rest of them went down to the bar to drink a bit – apparently Varric knew the owner well enough to hand out drinks of his own volition.

“So, Anders,” Hawke said with a grin. “Think you’ll be coming back?”

Anders laughed. “It was fun! I don’t know if I can come every week with my schedule, but I’d love to come by every now and then.” In a sudden rush of self-consciousness, he added: “If you’ll have me. Tell me if I’m terrible, I haven’t done this in ages.”

“No, you were good!” Merrill assured him, nodding hard enough that Anders worried that her frail neck would break.

“Yes, come by whenever you want,” Bethany agreed.

They chatted further about theatre, other things, and about the show they were planning – either Christmas or New Year's – when Anders brought up a question.

“Do you guys have a name?”

“A name? Nah, we’re not well known enough for that… yet,” Hawke winked and Varric leaned forward.

“I’ve been telling them that they need to think of one for ages! Every group needs a name, something the people can remember, something catchy!”

“What, like the Inquisition?” Hawke made a face as he mentioned one of the most popular international theatre ensembles that had recently become popular across all of Thedas. “I’ll only vote for a name if we come up with something awesome!”

They continued to converse about theatre groups after that – newest gossip in the scene was that the Inquisition had merged with a popular acappella group, the Chargers – and Anders grew quiet. He wondered if it would be obvious for him to leave now, but decided against it as he listened to the others banter.

“Have you heard? That one group from, what was it, Denerim, or somewhere in Ferelden, the Wardens? They’re on tour through Tevinter right now, and are practically causing a national outcry.”

Tevinter was always somewhat of a controversial topic, with its foreign politics and the tension they’re always causing with Par Vollen over the island Seheron, despite the war officially having ended ages ago. The fact that a Fereldan group was even allowed to perform there at all was noteworthy in itself.

Anders feigned interest, but didn’t say anything, hoping the subject would drop, but his wishes were not heard – Garrett turned to him with bright eyes.

“Oh, they’re from Amaranthine, right? Have you seen them while you lived there? You used to be friend with their star actor, whatshername?”

Anders suppressed a grimace and nodded, “Surana… Yes, we used to go to boarding school together. I… did meet her when I was in Amaranthine and I played with the Wardens. I mean, ah, I saw them--“

He cursed himself and tried to right his mistake, but it was too late. Hawke sat up straighter, eyes wide.

“You _played_ with the Wardens? As in, on stage?”

Anders sighed, but nodded, “Well, yeah, I… heard Surana was there and when we got in contact again she invited me.” Not unlike Hawke had, in fact. “I wasn’t in any big plays, and I mean, they’re on their way to perform in Anderfels now, and I’m here, so… it’s not like it matters.” That was what he told himself anyways, “Besides, I’m a doctor, not a professional actor.”

Hawke looked vaguely disappointed, but nodded and stopped prodding, probably noticing how the topic put Anders on edge.

Soon after, Anders left to get dinner, feed Pounce, and play a bit with him before preparing for his shift at the clinic. He even had time for a power nap (that turned a little longer than planned and he ended up being almost late) which he needed direly after… well.

It was ridiculous – as a doctor he worked with people every day, but somehow working with patients was different from being with friends. Both exhausting, in their own way. One was work, the other… also work, but a different kind, and while he found pleasure in both, he found himself thoroughly exhausted when having to deal with both of it in a small amount of time.

But the group, Hawke’s friends, seemed nice. All of them, even if Carver was grumpy, Isabela was touchy, and Fenris was… Fenris. He wasn’t entirely sure he got that one yet, but that was fine. He’d meet him again, next time, and that gave him a thrill almost like the thought of acting again, playing with them excited him.

It was good. He was looking forward to it.

He was in a good mood when he entered the clinic. Lirene greeted him with a smile, and when she asked what happened, Anders told her he was just having a good day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you guess who came up with the prompts? ;)


	5. Chapter 5

Karl had recommended a coffee shop and given his impeccable taste in (almost) everything, Anders trusted his judgement completely. He wasn’t sure if the coffee really was that good (he usually preferred tea, and when he drank it he usually only took something as strong as possible with a generous amount of cream and sugar) but he liked the ambience and came by whenever he was in Hightown – or when he needed a nice place to meet up.

Justice had assured him that he knew the address of the coffee shop and was already waiting for him at the door, his blue eyes piercing the crowd. They softened somewhat when Anders met them and waved, getting only a nod in return, and he gave his brother a brief hug as greeting.

“Anders. I’m glad we could meet today,” Justice said as they went inside.

“Sorry. I’m still busy, the hospital and clinic take a lot of time.”

Anders finally relaxed when they entered the heated inside of the shop. It was cold outside; the horrible wet weather was usual for what wasn’t autumn anymore but also not quite winter yet – cold but not cold enough for rain and water to freeze, with an icy wind that bore its way straight through several layers of clothing.

In a few minutes he’d probably be sweating like a pig under his heavy coat but for now it was bliss, though Anders took off his scarf and gloves.

“Of course.” That was all Justice said on the matter. He wasn’t angry that his brother barely had time for him aside from allowing him to help with the moving. He just was like that. Work was important, and while he would never say it outright Anders wondered if Justice loved his job more than his family. Or at least took it more seriously.

He was a cop, and he was not just good at what he did, he excelled. Always pushing himself, eager and with an impeccable work ethic he was the perfect employee, doing things one hundred percent by the book even if his tendency to tell co-workers (including his superiors) how to do their jobs better didn’t exactly make him the most popular fellow. Still, he was a good man and Anders loved him, though sometimes he wished his brother would be a little more… creative when it came to grey-zones of rules and law (seriously, the man didn’t even download music).

It was their turn to order their coffee and Anders couldn’t help but raise his brow when the girl at the counter greeted Justice by name and asked if he wanted his usual. He watched in amusement when Justice agreed and remained completely oblivious to the obvious – and actually quite impressive – flirting the barista pulled on him, and she looked disappointed when Justice pointed at him so she’d take his order as well.

After a few moments of thought Anders settled for a simple hot chocolate and pulled out his wallet, surprised when Justice told him it was his treat. Justice barely ever treated anyone, especially not Anders, little brother or not.

They sat down at a small round table near the window once their orders were finished. Anders had been right: by the time he shrugged out of his coat he was already too hot.

“How is work?”

Knowing that it was a genuine question and not just small talk, Anders told Justice about work at the hospital (ridiculously underpaid, but he liked it) and the clinic (exhausting, but satisfying). He also told Justice how he had met up with Hawke and Karl without being prompted. Justice seemed satisfied to know he had friends, but also looked vaguely disapproving when heard about Hawke – he had never liked him, even back in high school, insisting that he was a troublemaker and only distracted Anders from studying (which wasn’t entirely wrong, but he also severely underestimated Anders’ instrumental role in the trouble-making).

Anders contemplated not mentioning it, but then told Justice about the meeting with Hawke’s theatre group, watching his reaction closely.

Justice’s face didn’t change, but he folded his hands and leaned back in his chair, practically radiating disapproval.

“So you’re back to theatre?”

“Justice, it’s a hobby.” Anders rolled his eyes. “It’s not a commitment, I won’t drop being a doctor for being on stage.”

“That’s what you said last time too.”

Anders tensed. “Yes, and I am still a doctor, right?”

The answer was a grunt, but Justice’s posture eased and Anders smirked. “Besides, every man needs a hobby, and not everyone can be satisfied with painfully realistic model railways.”

Justice squinted but he knew Anders was only teasing. There was a whole room in his flat solely dedicated to his miniatures, and while that was a hobby as good as any Anders was almost impressed by how perfectly it reflected Justice’s whole personality – he didn’t just build miniatures of anything, but true-to-scale and entirely accurate models of complex railway systems all across Thedas.

It was no doubt a dedication that required years of work and great skill, but Anders also found it incredibly boring. But then again, there probably were people who thought the exact same thing about theatre.

He listened attentively as Justice told him about how he had finally finished the new express railway between Orlais and Denerim in his model and after that Anders told him about Pounce and how the cat was adjusting to life in Kirkwall and they talked until Justice had to leave for his evening shift.

Anders still had time before he had to go to the clinic and he decided to walk back home instead of taking the bus (it was dark already, but there were enough people around still) and he thought about how the coffee shop girl had flirted with Justice.

From the way she had looked at him she was completely smitten, and Anders couldn’t quite blame her. Justice was all blue eyes and clear lines with a sharply defined jaw, a regal nose and short blond hair that fit him perfectly. Anders was like a softer version of him, honey-brown eyes and longer hair, though they had the same nose.

Justice always said how much he looked like their mother. Not that Anders would remember.

His thoughts wandered and eventually lead him to white lines on dark skin.

Anders sighed when he realized he was thinking about Fenris again. He felt a little guilty for it, but really – Fenris was just one of those people you couldn’t tear your eyes away from. His features were fascinating and the way he moved was utterly captivating, every twitch or flex of his muscles pulled Anders in more.

Yes, Fenris was aesthetically pleasing, extremely so, Anders decided and the guilt faded.

There was a faint humming and Anders felt his phone vibrate against his thigh. He pulled it from his pocked and wrestled off a glove so he could unlock the screen and read the message.

 **To:** Anders (^ㅇㅅㅇ^❀)  
**From:** Hawke  
_Yo, we (the crew & me) are hanging out. Wanna come? _

Anders contemplated and checked the time.

 **To:** Hawke  
**From:** Anders (^ㅇㅅㅇ^❀)  
_Alright. Where you @?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the lovely comments and cookies <3 I appreciate it more than you can imagine!


	6. Chapter 6

When Anders entered the Hanged Man this time, he immediately spotted Hawke even though the pub was considerably more full this time (and also opened for normal business).

The twins were not with them this time so it was Hawke, Merrill, Isabela, Varric and Fenris. And a woman with red hair and freckles.

Anders greeted them all and sat down on the free chair next to her.

“Hi, we haven’t met yet. I’m Anders.”

“So I’ve heard.” She shook his hand firmly and looked at him a little more scrutinizing than was polite and Anders wondered if he had spilled his drink on his shirt or there was an especially deforming pimple on his face he had missed this morning that Justice was too polite to mention.

“I’m Aveline. You look a lot like your brother.” Aveline probably noticed how weirded out he was by that statement and smiled. “I work with Justice. He mentioned you moving to Kirkwall and it’s rare for him to talk about anything private, so it stuck.”

Anders relaxed after that and rolled his eyes at Hawke’s shit-eating grin – so _that_ was how he had known about him moving to Kirkwall.

After that he wasn’t surprised to hear that Aveline was a police director, head of the crime branch in Kirkwall – at least not that Justice was working with her. What _did_ surprise him was that Hawke was friends with her, nodding along skeptically when Hawke explained that their friendship went way back to when he still lived in Ferelden.

Anders listened to the conversations around the table. Isabela was trying to talk Hawke into dying his beard while Fenris listened in amusement and Merrill and Aveline seemed to talk about a book or other, and while he didn’t participate much more than a comment here and there he enjoyed the company.

When a waiter brought him the glass of water he had ordered earlier, Varric turned to him.

“Just water, Blondie?” he asked and Anders raised a brow at the nickname but didn’t say anything as he nipped on his glass, shrugging and was about to explained that he had to work later when he heard a scoff from over the table.

Fenris had made that noise and looked disapprovingly at Varric, who held out his hands in amused surprise. “What have I done to deserve that look?”

“He’s not _blond_ ,” Fenris said and sounded as if that was the most obvious thing in the world. Anders blinked. _I’m not?_

“And what, pray tell, is Blondie if not blond?” Varric asked, clearly amused and something in his voice told Anders that this was an old argument, though he was not sure how the colour of his hair could be the subject.

Fenris sat up straighter and looked at Anders (or rather, his hair).

“There’s too much red in his hair colour for him to be blond. It’s not quite ginger but also too far removed from blond. It’s strawberry blond.”

“Still has blond in the name!” Varric laughed and caught Anders confused glance at the exchange.

“Fenris here is a hairdresser, and not just a cheap one but he works in one of those fancy salons in Hightown.” He winked at Fenris over the table. “Though if you’d ask him, he’d tell you he’s a stylist.”

“That’s because that’s what it says on my paycheck,” Fenris said with a smirk and Anders only nodded, oddly fascinated by that new information.

“I, ah, always considered myself blond,” he said eventually and Fenris raised a brow over his glass – he was drinking wine and not beer like the rest of the crew.

“That’s what anyone would say,” Fenris admitted and shrugged. “To put it simply: your hair lacks dark pigments, making it light, and that’s what most people focus on. But you do have lighter pigments, red ones which make the red undertone, so if I wanted to categorise your hair colour like any good hairdresser would do, I’d put you in strawberry blond.”

Fenris’ smirk widened. “I was mostly just messing with Varric though. His habit to give everyone nicknames is a pain in the ass in itself already, but when it’s inaccurate nicknames on top of that…”

“Hey! You just said yourself that most people would say he’s blond!” Varric snorted, but was still grinning as he leaned closer to Anders to stage whisper in his ear. “His nickname’s Broody, by the way.”

Anders laughed, pushing some of his – apparently strawberry blond – hair out of his eyes. It had begun to fall from the hair tie holding it at the back of his head over the course of the day and he reached up to undo the tie, shaking out his hair and combed through it with his fingers.

His hair was getting rather long, he pondered, tickling his neck and he should probably get a haircut sometime soon. He readjusted the tie and was holding it so it didn’t pull at his scalp as he wondered if he should ask Fenris to cut his hair, but then again, Varric had said the salon he worked it was in Hightown, so maybe he couldn’t afford it...

Anders paused, hands still at his neck when he noticed that Fenris was staring at him. For a moment he thought that maybe there was something going on behind him but no, the green eyes were clearly fixed on him, and a few seconds ticked by as they stared at each other.

Then Fenris blinked and quickly looked away.

_Huh. What was that?_

 

***

 

Anders was surprised that when he announced that he needed to leave Fenris stood as well, clearing his throat and said he had to go as well. Anders caught himself again and smiled, and together they went and grabbed their coats – Fenris was still wearing his leather jacket – and left.

“You know, it’s supposed to snow soon,” Anders said with a side glance at the other, still adjusting his own scarf under the collar of his warm coat.

“Yeah?” Fenris only said, completely unimpressed by the cold air.

“Well, you’re not exactly dressed for the season.”

Fenris turned his head to look Anders up and down, as if only just now taking in his much warmer attire. “You mean, why am I not wrapped in five layers yet?” he asked, clearly amused. “I don’t like thick clothing. It’s... it just feels restricting. I walk a lot – that keeps me warm too.”

They had reached the bus stop and Anders was almost disappointed.

“Ah, alright...” He wondered if he would still be late to his shift if he walked instead of taking the bus. “You live in Darktown?”

Fenris cocked his head. “No.”

“Oh.”

“Since I’m walking home, I figured it would be polite to wait for the bus with you.”

It was more than polite, in fact, and in his surprise Anders almost didn’t notice Fenris’ fidgeting next to him.

_Huh._

“Thank you. I appreciate the company.”

“I figured.”

They were silent after that and Anders dreaded the awkwardness as he combed through his mind for something interesting to say. It was Fenris who first talked again though.

“You haven’t... had any more incidents on your way home again?”

“No, not at all.” Anders was relieved, both at the new topic of conversation and that he hadn’t received any unwanted attention at night again. “I take the bus more often now. I suppose it was just bad luck that night.”

Fenris nodded to himself, seeming pleased with that reply.

Again, they paused with talking but this time it was more comfortable.

Despite his layers, Anders shivered and he wished he had brought a cap to keep his ears warm. Would it be weird to reach up and rub them with his considerably warmer palms?

In the end he decided to open his small ponytail so his hair would fall over his ears – he liked to imagine that it was a layer against protection and while it didn’t necessarily feel warmer it at least made him feel better about it.

After stuffing his hands back into his pockets he realized that Fenris was staring again. This time he wasn’t as surprised and raised an eyebrow at the smaller man.

Fenris didn’t seem to expect that and quickly averted his glance, shifting his weight as he rubbed his calf with the tip of his shoe, but then looked back at Anders. “I like your hair.”

Anders blinked. Fenris continued, “It’s remarkably healthy.”

Anders smiled and watched Fenris shift nervously. It was adorable.

“Thank you. I, uh, wash it.” He cleared his throat. “It needs a cut though… keeps falling into my eyes. Can’t have that at work. I don’t know any good hairdressers around here though.”

He realized what that sounded like a little too late and blushed, but Fenris was already cocking his head at him, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards slowly.

“I mean, of course I know you! And I bet you’re a wonderful hairdresser… stylist, I mean, but Varric said your salon is very fancy, so…”

“I’d like to cut your hair.”

It was said very softly and at first Anders wasn’t really sure he had heard right. Fenris still looked up at him, head cocked and blinked slowly.

 _If cats blink slowly at you it’s a sign of trust. Pounce does it a lot…_ The thought shot through Anders’ mind and he realized he was blinking back, his face feeling heated. He should not compare Fenris to a cat. Especially not to Pounce.

“We’re not actually that expensive.” Fenris was talking again. “And I can give you a coupon, if it’s still too much.”

“I, uh…” Anders swallowed and forced himself to calm down. It was a kind offer, after all. “That sounds good! Thank you. Um, when should I...?”

“Just come over whenever you have time.” Fenris rummaged through his wallet and pulled out a business card, sleek and in a dark brown with light electric blue letters and ornaments.

 _Fenris_ _Leto_ _  
__Head Stylist at L’Yrium Kirkwall Salon_

There was a Hightown address as well as their phone number and email printed next to the logo of the salon, and all Anders could think of what that it did look pretty expensive to him. Certainly not like the small shops he usually went to for his haircuts, which only cost a few sovereigns.

But maybe, just maybe he should treat himself to this for once, and besides, with the way Fenris was still looking at him with what could only qualify at puppy eyes – _or kitten eyes, maybe_ – almost hopefully, it was impossible to say no.

“Okay. I’ll come by sometime next week.”

Fenris smiled and told him his working hours and then Anders’ bus arrived.

“Get home safe,” Fenris said, stepping back to make room for the people who actually wanted to board the bus.

“You too! Good night.”

Anders waved and got on the bus. When he looked out the window, he saw Fenris still at the bus stop, following the vehicle with his eyes until it rounded the corner.


	7. Chapter 7

_Why am I here again?_ Anders wondered not for the first time as he stood in Hightown, staring at what was undoubtedly the salon Fenris worked at. A wide sign in elegant light blue letters that were lit despite the midday sun read _L’Yrium_ and there were pictures of ageless models in completely impractical hair-dos and unknown amounts of makeup.

It did indeed look rather fancy and definitely not like a place Anders would usually go, even if he had the money. He was reasonably sure that Fenris had lied to him when he had said they were ‘not that expensive’. There were no prices listed on the outside like at most barbershops, which was never a good sign, but there were pictures of famous celebrities and other well-known figures with captions that supposedly were quotes of them telling the passer-by why this was their hair salon of choice.

There was a picture of movie-star Orsino and – of course – right next to him the one of his arch-nemesis and equally successful actress Meredith Stannard, though both were best known for the headlines their frequent heated arguments both on set and in private caused. The number of headlines and articles marking them as disagreeable but passionate lovers was about as equally high though, as Anders knew from the countless tabloids Lirene loved to read and frequently left in the break room at the clinic.

Anders wondered if he would get away with just leaving again and telling Fenris he didn’t have time – but if he showed up with a haircut the next time they met would make him seem like a hypocrite, and promptly he remembered the puppy eyes Fenris had given him when talking about cutting his hair.

 _Think of what Justice would do_ , Anders thought but then pushed it aside. Of course, Justice wouldn’t even dream of spending more than few sovereigns on a haircut, if he even did that - maybe he just cut it at home sitting in his bathtub.

Anders sighed and decided that famous clients or not – it couldn’t be _that_ expensive, right? It was just a haircut after all.

Besides, Fenris promised him a coupon.

Steeling himself Anders pushed open the glass doors and stepped into the wide and well-lit interior of the salon. It was almost clinical with the white floors, walls and ceiling and the many lights that made shadows almost non-existent.

Soft music played over invisible speakers, calming but curious and without lyrics to stay professional. There were mirrors and chairs, but only two of them were taken, one by an elderly woman reading a magazine while her hair was covered by a hooded hair dryer, and the other by a businessman being attended by a hairdresser.

“Good day, Serah, and welcome to L’Yrium Kirkwall. Can I help you?”

The impeccably dressed woman at the reception desk greeted him, eyeing him with his big coat that barely fit with the luxurious interior of the salon.

He stepped closer to the desk and looked around, but couldn’t spot Fenris among the few people and white walls.

“Ah, I’m here to see Fenris.” He said, hoping that Fenris might have mentioned him.

The receptionist looked at her white and flat screen before typing something into her small keyboard.

“Do you have an appointment with Messere Leto?” she squinted; she clearly hadn’t been told about him.

Anders sighed to himself. “No, but he said I should just stop by…”

“Serah,” she said stiffly and there was a certain level of upset in her voice that indicated that she felt somewhat offended. “I’m sure you understand that we need to make appointments in this establishment. Messere Leto is a very sought after stylist who—”

“Anders!”

Fenris strode from across the room towards them. He was dressed… considerably different from how Anders usually saw him. Still mostly black but there were pleated pants, a subtly striped shirt in grey and white with a hint of blue, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and over it a waistcoat that fit him so well that it could only be tailored.

It made sense for him to be dressed like this, of course, given the rest of the standard of the salon but Anders was still stunned, staring as Fenris stepped closer.

Had his waist always been so slim?

And Fenris was smiling, broadly so, and that startled Anders more than anything else.

The receptionist seemed to think the same because she was stuttering when Fenris took Anders’ arm to guide him away.

“I’m glad you could come,” he said, sounding genuinely happy as he led Anders into the corner of the room, far away from the other customers and the receptionist’s judging stare.

“I…” Anders sat in the chair and looked at Fenris in the mirror. Even his hair was different, carefully styled to be both high class and fashionable and probably after the latest style. Not that Anders would know.

“It’s nice here. Very… fancy.”

Fenris smirked. “I guess it really is. Come on, let’s wash your hair.”

They went to the sinks specifically designed for this purpose and Anders was sure he had never felt a towel as soft as the one Fenris placed around his neck so the marble of the sink wouldn’t be uncomfortable.

“Tell me if it’s too hot or cold,” Fenris murmured and held the stream of water over Anders’ hair. It was the perfect temperature, just right for his scalp and Anders told Fenris so.

He found himself relaxing into the leather chair, putting his feet on the small stool right in front of him to be more comfortable and closed his eyes.

Once his hair was wet, Fenris turned off the water and was gone for mere seconds, carefully rubbing shampoo into the lengths of Anders’ hair, mindful so he wouldn't make contact with the scalp.

He rubbed two products in Anders’ hair and Anders could smell the subtle but pleasant scent of them and from the way Fenris was handling his hair he could feel how smooth and easy to comb it was by now.

Fenris rinsed them once more and then went to get yet another product, this one meant for the scalp. Anders sighed when he felt nimble fingers massaging his head, the pressure firm but not too strong and just right to make him forget about anything but the sensation. He relaxed even further into the chair and it was safe to say that he had never been this comfortable at the other hairdressers.

“Good?” Fenris asked, voice a low rumble that vibrated pleasantly through Anders’ body.

“Mm-hm,” Anders hummed in reply and if he hadn’t been so utterly relaxed that his face was slack he would have smiled when he could hear Fenris chuckle, barely audible.

The massage continued for longer than Anders would have though usual, but he was far from complaining, blinking at the suddenly too bright light when Fenris finally rinsed his hair one last time and wrapped the soft towel around his head.

“You could probably do anything to me now and I wouldn’t complain,” Anders sighed as they walked back to the previous seat.

Fenris was chuckling again as he fastened the sleek black robe gingerly around Anders’ neck, careful to not make it too tight but also not too loose, and Anders wondered if Fenris was being extra careful to not touch his skin or if that was a professional fancy hairdresser thing.

“What do you want?”

Fenris pulled a moveable stool closer to sit down and behind Anders, looking at him in the mirror. He had put on some sort of small apron, or maybe a thick belt of cloth with a lot of pockets that held various scissors, combs, hairclips and more things that Anders couldn’t identify and his face held a sort of calm neutrality that Anders could only assume was his usual customer face.

“I, uh, just want it a bit shorter I guess? It shouldn’t fall into my eyes, so still long enough for me to tie it back.”

To be honest, he had never spent that much time thinking about his hair. Back when he was younger he liked it long but it was rather impractical, but he kept it between shoulder and chin length usually because going as short as Justice just wasn’t his thing either.

Fenris raised a brow at that vague description but didn’t say anything to it, just nodded as he rubbed the towel a bit and pulled it away so he could comb the smooth hair.

“You want to keep it in this style then?” he asked after arranging it how Anders usual wore it. “No big changes?”

“Uh,” Anders blinked, then shrugged. “I guess? I rather like it this way.”

Nodding, Fenris began to pull out his tools, one hand always staying on Anders’ head, fiddling with his hair and Anders suspected he was a bit more tactile than usual, but it felt good and he wasn’t about to complain.

He nodded when Fenris indicated how much he would cut away, and then he set to work. He started with pinning the hair on the top of Anders’ head up with hair clips, drawing neat lines on the scalp following his comb. He combed the loose remaining hair a bit longer than was normal and shot looks to the mirror and Anders raises a brow in question.

Fenris shifted his weight in a way Anders by now recognized as a nervous habit and he smiled to reassure the other. It only seemed to make it worse though, Fenris' shoulders tensed even as his fingers and hands stayed calm and gentle.

“Have you ever considered an undercut?”

Anders blinked. _An undercut? For me?!_

“I, uh… I didn’t think I was the type for something like that.”

Fenris shrugged. “It’s just hair. You can wear it in whatever way pleases you. It a form of self- expression – there’s no ‘type’ you need to be to wear certain hairstyles.”

Anders listened and curiously watched Fenris as he explained, the way he put one foot on top of the other, hip angled and voice quiet but sure and deep as always, tone firm and he clearly knew what he was talking about.

Well, he _was_ a hairdresser.

“Is that why you dye your hair white? As a form of self-expression?”

Fenris eyes widened a bit, clearly startled by the question and Anders felt the fingers in his hair twitch, quickly reeling back.

“I, ah, assume it’s dyed, I mean…”

“It is.” Fenris had his facial expression back under control, but his shoulders were still tense and he stood a bit stiffly. “Dyed. My hair.”

He nodded quickly and then a small, wry smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “I suppose you could call it a measure of self-expression.”

Anders decided to carefully dig deeper. “The tattoos, too?”

The scowl that fluttered over Fenris’ face then was gone as suddenly as it appeared, and he didn’t look at Anders, instead concentrated on combing back the lower parts of Anders’ hair to pin them at the back of his head.

“They’re… different. Not like the hair,” was all he said and Anders decided to leave it at that, silently watching what Fenris was doing.

When Fenris was done he opened the clips on top of Anders’ head to let the hair there fall down, looking at Anders in the mirror as he lightly ruffled his hair, and Anders realized he had pinned his hair back in a mock-version of what an undercut would look like.

It looked… good, Anders had to admit after a moment of uncertainty. It made him look younger, almost edgy and certainly more adventurous than he considered himself to be – now, at least, and weirdly enough it made him strangely nostalgic of a few years back when he hadn’t been working two jobs and his doctor’s degree hadn’t been in the immediate future.

Yet Anders found himself liking it, especially when Fenris pulled the top hair back into a mock pony tail.

“It’s… nice.” Anders admitted finally and ignored Fenris’ smug grin. “But…”

But what? The thought of shaving part of his head – and that was what ‘undercut’ meant if he understood it right – was somewhat intimidating, and maybe a bit extreme, and he voiced his doubts.

Fenris shrugged. “It won’t be as bad as it sounds. I’ve had it too – I rather liked the feeling.”

Anders looked up in surprise. “Really?”

He tried to imagine Fenris with an undercut and Fenris seemed to know what he was thinking because he vanished through a back door and returned with a smartphone, swiping over the screen a few times before turning it to Anders. It showed a picture of a grumpy looking Fenris, flanked by Isabela and Merrill, both women blowing kisses on his cheeks. There was sand and the ocean in the background and they were in swimwear and the first thing Anders noticed was that the white tattoos spread all the way over Fenris’ chest and arms, a realization quickly followed by noting that Fenris was also as well built as he appeared under his clothes.

Only after a moment he really looked at Fenris’ haircut as he was supposed to. The sides of his head were shaved, slowly getting longer towards the top of his head and… it looked good. Really good.

_I’ll never be able to pull it off this well._

When Anders looked up he saw Fenris studying his face closely and willed himself not to blush.

“It looks good on you,” he said casually.

Fenris nodded in thanks and put his phone away. “Thank you. I’ve been thinking of going back to the undercut, actually.”

“You should!” It came out a bit more forceful than planned and Fenris raised a brow, and this time Anders felt his face heated as he added hastily. “I mean, it looks good as it is, but I really like the undercut as well. I don’t think I’d look as good with it.”

“Well, your hair will mostly stay long. It doesn’t have to go up so far either.” Fenris pulled out his comb again and rearranged Anders’ hair so the pinned back part was only starting a bit over his ear.

Anders pursed his lips in thought. He _did_ rather like the idea, but what if it turned out differently than he imagined? If it made him look less serious?

He was still thinking when he saw Fenris pull a clipper from a drawer and undid the pins, already readying his equipment.

“Whoa!” Anders exclaimed, loud enough to make the other people in the salon turn their heads. “I didn’t say I wanted it!” he added a bit quieter.

Fenris only smirked smugly. “No you didn’t. But you were just about to.”

Anders opened his mouth but couldn’t find the words for a fitting reaction. Fenris wasn’t wrong exactly, but…

“How did you know?”

“Suggesting different styles is part of my job. I’ve watched enough people make decisions right here in this chair to read the signs.” He raised the clipper and waved it in a small gesture, wordlessly asking Anders for his okay.

Anders bit his lip and stayed silent for a few seconds, then sank into his chair. “Alright. Go ahead.”

As he watched strands of hair fall on his shoulders and the floor, Anders found that it wasn’t as intimidating as he had thought. If he didn’t like it, he could still wear his hair open and hide the shaved parts, which weren’t that short to begin with, the pale scalp barely shining through the light stubble.

Fenris worked swiftly and with the ease and grace of someone very proficient at their job, and soon Anders was watching him work more than the actual changes gradually happening to his hair.

His fingers worked fast and sure with the sharp tools that he wielded expertly. Despite the many pins and clips in Anders’ hair, he never tugged at his scalp uncomfortably and he nudged him quietly or gave directions in a soft voice when he needed Anders to angle his head another way.

They were mostly silent aside from a bit of casual talk here and there, but it was pleasant and before he knew Fenris was putting away the clips and reached for brush and blow-dryer after lightly kneading a sweet smelling oil into the hair.

After what seemed to Anders like completely unnecessary blow-drying and brushing, Fenris stepped back and went to get a round hand mirror to hold behind Anders’ letting him admire the new haircut from all angles.

Anders liked it. A lot.

Most of the hair on the top of his head was still the same length, though trimmed at the tips and lightly graduated. Around the ears and back of his neck it was shaved down to a stubble, gradually getting longer to meet the long hair at the top.

It was also shining with health and poise like it always was when one came fresh from the hairdresser, and Anders could only hope that he would still like it after his first shower.

For now, he was elated though and stood after taking off the cape, turning to Fenris with a smile. “I like it. Thank you.”

He felt the urge to hug Fenris, but wasn’t sure if it was appreciated. Were they even friends? At what point would they cross the awkward friend-of-a-friend stage to actual friends? Did Fenris even want to be friends?

Anders watched how the tension that had crawled back into Fenris’ shoulders eased away after the heartfelt thanks, and Fenris gave a smile that lit up his whole face, in turn making Anders’ expression brighter as well.

“You’re welcome. I enjoyed cutting your hair very much. I should—” He cleared his throat. “Thank you for trusting me, I guess. With the haircut.”

“Oh, I never doubted your opinion on the matter!” Anders laughed and raised his hand to rub the back of his neck, immediately mesmerized by how good it felt to drag his fingers over the stubble.

Fenris smirked knowingly at him.

“That was my favourite part about the undercut,” he said and reached out slowly, almost as if afraid Anders would shy back.

Curious, Anders let him proceed and shuddered when he felt the other’s hand come in contact with his hair, gently pushing the long strands at the back of his neck to the side so he could run his fingers over the stubble.

Fenris had touched his hair before – the whole past hour, in fact – but it felt different now. Anders forced his breath to stay even and shivered lightly, feeling goose bumps spread over his shoulders and down his arms.

Fenris’ fingers had reached where the stubble was getting longer and he slowly dragged them down now, almost in a petting motion, to Anders’ nape where he pause a split moment too long before trailing back upwards, making Anders sigh contently.

The expression on Fenris’ face was soft and he was watching the hair move under and over his fingers, eyes green and gentle and he was obviously enjoying the touch.

Anders realized that he was disappointed that Fenris was looking at the hair and not at him, and he cleared his throat, reaching for his wallet in the back pocket of his jeans. “So… how much do I owe you?”

Fenris blinked and it was as if the words had broken a spell. He pulled back his hand hastily and pushed it and the other into the pockets of his trousers, shifting his weight again.

“It’s fine, you owe me nothing,” he said, looking anywhere but into Anders’ eyes which made Anders wonder if he had said something wrong.

“I meant, how much should I pay—”

Fenris interrupted him with a quick shake of his head, making the white hair fly.

“I know what you meant. You pay nothing.”

For a moment, Anders was stunned. He had come to terms with paying a ridiculous amount over the past hour and decided that he didn’t mind at all. “But...”

“No, really.” Fenris held up his hands and smirked, finally lowering his shoulders. “I enjoyed myself. You let me prod you into coming here and even took my suggestion on the haircut. It’s only fair.”

It wasn’t, after all Fenris had done exactly what his job required of him, but Anders was getting the feeling Fenris wouldn’t let himself be convinced on the matter. He put his wallet away and smiled.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Fenris walked him to the door and they talked about theatre, agreeing to see each other again two weeks later at training.

He was already in his coat and scarf when Fenris, pointed at his head.

“You might want to get a hat.”

For a few seconds Anders was confused until he realized Fenris meant the shaved parts of his head. Looking back, it might not have been the best season to get an undercut.

“Oh! Yeah, you’re right...”

Fenris signalled him to wait and vanished in the back of the salon. He returned with something black in his hands and once he reached Anders he rose to his tiptoes, pulling something over Anders’ head until it covered his ears. After fiddling with some long strands of hair he leaned back down, slightly flushed but pleased.

Anders reached up and felt soft cloth, and when he looked into one of the many mirrors in the salon he realized Fenris had given him his beanie.

He felt his cheeks heat as well and suddenly Fenris flushed cheeks made a lot more sense

 _Even his ears are flushed._ _That’s… cute!_

“Thank you! I’ll give it back at the next training.” Anders grinned. “But won’t you freeze on your way home?”

“I’ll be fine.”

Anders left the salon shortly after feeling more light-hearted than usual. It was almost a little dizzying and he wondered if it was solely from the new haircut or from something else.


	8. Chapter 8

When Anders came to the Hanged Man two weeks later, the others immediately started to coo over his hair. Isabela and Bethany made him sit down so they could rub over the stubble that had already gotten longer in the short time since the haircut, and from the corner of his eyes Anders could see Fenris watching in amusement.

They didn’t really have time to talk and immediately started with warm up exercises, both meant to ready their voices for filling up a whole room and for boosting creativity.

At first they stood in a circle, hands clasped in front of their sternum and elbows stretched out to the side as they let their mouths hang open loosely, humming simple vowels and shaking their hands. In the beginning that mostly lead to fits of giggling at the resulting noise but soon they grew serious.

Then they threw words at each other, each repeating the word they received and continuing with an association.

The next game was one for all of them to participate. There were always two people on stage, playing small scenes until one of the spectators clapped to make the current actors freeze just to take one of their positions, using it to start a new small scene until the next person clapped and so on.

When the real playing started with Merrill, Bethany and Fenris on stage, Hawke sat down next to Anders, nudging his shoulder with his own.

“So… Fenris cut your hair?”

There was a tension in that question that Anders couldn’t quite place, and he reached up to tug on his pony tail and rub the stubble at the back of his head, a habit he had quickly adapted after getting the undercut. “He did. How did you figure it was him?”

Hawke chuckled.

“No offense, but this isn’t exactly a style you would have gotten on your own. However, it’s totally something Fenris would do, so… yeah. Fairly obvious to me.” He shifted on his hair, eyes fixed on the man on stage rather than Anders. “How did that happen? I didn’t think you’d be the type to go to L’Yrium.”

“I’m really not! Fenris had quite some convincing to do, and even so… I felt completely out of place. You should have seen how the receptionist looked at me.”

“Ha! Bet she didn’t think you were a paying customer.” Hawke was still chuckling quietly and Anders tried to push down the swelling guilt. He still couldn’t believe he had let Fenris treat him.

“Guess not. If Fenris hadn’t made it clear that he really wanted to cut my hair I would have left the salon after five seconds.”

Hawke turned to look at him, expression unreadable. “He said that? That he wants to cut your hair?”

“He did, yes.”

Hawke stared for a moment longer, looking lost, but then smiled brightly in usual Hawke-fashion and clapped Anders on the back.

“Well, I’m glad he managed to convince you! You look great.”

The rest of the training session they spent acting and laughing. It went on for long enough that when they were done the bar at the Hanged Man was already open and since most of them didn’t have to work after they sat down at a table and ordered drinks.

Anders felt a bit bad for drinking and could almost hear Justice’s voice in his head scolding him for it, but it got drowned out by Varric’s musing about the beer they served here. Isabela sat next to him, unable to keep her hands from his hair and he couldn’t bring himself to mind as she petted the stubble.

The atmosphere was easy and relaxed and even when Hawke announced his departure for the night the spike of anxiety of being left alone by his friend lasted only for a few seconds before Aveline pulled him into a discussion on the importance of pedicures. Anders realized that he was beginning to see these people as his friends as well and it made him feel warm inside.

The voice at the edge of his mind whispering about repeated mistakes and reminding him of the Wardens he pushed away – this was not like the Wardens. Hawke’s friends were not like the Wardens.

He left a lot later than he had originally planned. It was freezing outside, the parked cars covered in frost and the icy wind was biting it’s was right through the layers of his coat and it didn’t help that his bus was late.

His nose and ears were cold and Anders was wondering if it would look dumber if he covered his nose or his ears with his hands, and he didn’t immediately notice when Fenris walked up to him.

“You know, if you had a hat your ears wouldn’t be looking as if they were falling off.”

Anders jumped and turned, looking at Fenris who was finally wearing a warmer jacket, a black coat fit snugly to his shape. Then he realized that Fenris wasn’t wearing his usual beanie and his face flamed.

“Andraste’s ass, I completely forgot! I’m sorry.” Anders cursed himself – he had even put it on the shelf next to his door, just to ignore it when he had left earlier.

Fenris smirked and shook his head, shrugging without pulling his hands from the deep (and probably warm) pockets of his coat.

“It’s alright. Worse for you than for me in the end. You might want to…” He looked at Anders and seemed to hesitate for a moment, then reached up to pull at the hair tie and let Anders’ hair down, hand lingering in the long strands for a few seconds. “Might help against the cold,” he mumbled and looked away quickly.

Anders blinked and felt a smile creep over his face. Suddenly he didn’t feel so cold anymore. “Thank you.”

They waited in companionable silence, Anders checking the screen of his phone every few minutes.

“Your bus is late?”

“That’s an understatement! I’ve been waiting here long enough for two busses to pass. The last one should have shown up five minutes ago but…” he gestured angrily at the empty streets.

“Hm. When’s the next bus supposed to come?”

Anders checked. “30 minutes. If it’ll even show up…”

“If I remember correctly and you start walking now, you can be home in less than that.” Fenris shrugged and shifted on his feet which might as well be to keep himself warm a little, given that he was still wearing tight jeans and sneakers (even if they went up to cover his ankles this time).

Anders hesitated. Of course Fenris was right, but he hadn’t walked home from the Hanged Man yet and wasn’t sure if he would find the way, even if he followed the route the bus usually took, and while he liked to believe it was too cold to encourage street harassment the reluctance was there.

Fenris seemed to sense his uncertainty and shifted closer. “It could be hours until the next bus shows up.” Then he added, quieter: “I could walk you, if you want.”

“Oh, thanks, but you don’t need to.” It didn’t even sound convincing to himself and sure enough, Fenris looked up and raised a brow, then shook his head with a small smirk and turned.

“Come on. I remember the way.”

 

***

 

Anders really hoped that Fenris remembered correctly because of course he did not follow the bus route, and after a few minutes Anders was hopelessly lost. Fenris lead on confidently, walking calmly with his usual slouch and that along with his by now easy company made Anders relax as well after a while.

He found himself watching the man beside him, and since Fenris was smaller and not wearing a beanie he got a good look at the white hair. It was fluffy and healthy and indeed pure white, not just a very light blond or blue-grey. He could not see any dark roots or any other sign of Fenris’ natural hair colour, though his dark eyebrows suggested that he wasn’t blond.

“How often do you dye your hair?” Anders asked suddenly. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with roots.”

Fenris turned his head to smirk at him. “And you never will, if I get to have a say in it.” He shrugged. “Of course that means that I dye a lot, touching up the roots almost every week. I do it in between customers at the salon.”

He shook his head a bit and smiled. “If I’m perfectly honest... it started when I overheard one of my co-workers telling a customer that they couldn’t dye their hair completely white without destroying the structure of the hair or their scalp. That was back when I was still an apprentice and it irked me to think that it wouldn’t be possible despite the products we have access to, and when I came up with a way… I liked the idea so much that I tried it on myself. I perfected it over the years.”

Anders looked impressed. “I guess it involves a lot of bleaching? How do you keep your hair so healthy, then?”

Fenris snorted and laughed. “Trade secret. Let’s just say that it’s key to keep your hair moisturized and keep the natural oils intact instead of washing them away. Really, most people simply wash the healthiness away by themselves.”

Anders only understood half of what Fenris said but nodded along. “Hah, so it’s actually good that I tend to snooze my alarm so long I don’t have time to wash my hair most days before work.”

“It really is.”

They had to stop at a red light that for some reason was still turned on this late, and Fenris turned to look at him. Anders didn’t flinch when he felt a hand in his hair, combing through the long strands and rubbing soft fingertips over the stubble beneath. He shivered and it wasn’t from the cold. Fenris’ eyes were soft and muted green in the light of the street lamps and Anders could see light speckles around the pupil that got darker towards the edge of the iris.

“It’s green,” Fenris said and his voice sounded amused yet held a breathless lilt. He didn’t pull his hand away either and Anders swallowed, a sound loud in his own ears as his throat was suddenly dry.

“Right,” he rasped and quickly went on. His head felt cold where moments before Fenris had touched him and his hair there was ruffled slightly, baring his scalp to the cold air but he didn’t smooth it down. He could almost physically feel the way Fenris’ eyes were drawn to that spot.

It felt like the rest of the way home flew by and when they came to stand in front of the door it took Anders’ hands almost painfully long to get a proper grip on his key. He blamed it on the cold that made the tips of his fingers feel lifeless.

“You can come up,” he said as he unlocked the door, not looking behind him, “to get your beanie. Maybe warm up a little.”

“I’d like that.” Fenris’ voice sounded throaty and Anders felt light headed again as he led the other upstairs. When they reached the door to his apartment he missed the lock on the first attempt and cursed the cold under his breath.

Finally, he was inside and it was almost too hot. He shrugged of his coat and pointed to the beanie on the key shelf. “See? I even put it right there, and I still forgot…”

Anders felt a hand in his hair again, smoothing through the ruffled bits and his heartbeat was a drumming noise in the room, so loud that it was a wonder Fenris didn’t comment on it.

“If I gift it to you will you wear it?” Fenris asked, voice so deep Anders could almost feel it resonate in his fluttering stomach.

“But it’s yours, and you—”

“I can buy a new one.” His hand was brushing through his hair one last time before it came to rest on the side of his neck, fingers right behind Anders’ ear where they rubbed soothing circles into the stubble which only caused Anders’ pulse to jump against the palm.

“Will you wear it?”

Anders had to lean in close to hear Fenris and the hand at his neck guided him steadily. It felt like it was the only thing holding him up. “Ah, yes, I—”

The rest of his reply was swallowed by soft lips that were _warm_ and rested against his own for a few moments before they moved.

Anders’ breath rushed from him when Fenris’ second hand came to rest at his waist and it felt like he was drowning and Fenris was just barely holding him over the surface , their kiss giving him just as much air as he needed.

And for the moment is was enough even though Anders felt weak and he didn’t know what to do with his hands, feeling clumsy and stiff as he leaned closer and Fenris’ hands moved to grip his head tighter and pull their bodies closer together.

_“Mrow!”_

They jumped apart at the sudden noise and stared at the intruder. Pounce was sitting in the door leading to the kitchen area, tail curled neatly around his front paws and was absolutely unimpressed by the surprised glares he received.

“Oh, Pounce!” Anders laughed nervously and stepped closer to pick up the cat. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t want to ignore you. Were you a good kitty while I was away?”

“You have a cat,” Fenris said, still standing at the door, hands held out awkwardly as if still feeling the ghost of holding Anders.

Anders carried Pounce closer to introduce the two but Fenris held up a hand to stop him. “I'm allergic to cats.”

“Oh.” Anders disappointment must have been showing because Fenris laughed and came towards him.

“Don’t worry, I won’t die right away from being in the same room with him.” He leaned down to blink slowly at Pounce and then looked up. “His name is Pounce?”

“Ser Pounce-A-Lot, yeah.”

Now Fenris blinked at him this time and one of his eyebrows rose. “Uh-huh. And who knighted him?”

Anders sniffed and set Pounce on the floor. “I did. He is very smart, and brave. The title seemed appropriate.”

“I bet it was.” Fenris snorted in amusement and Anders rolled his eyes as he followed Pounce into the kitchen to give him some snacks.

Fenris watched but didn’t go further than the doorway leading to the kitchen, leaning against it with crossed arms.

Anders could still feel the ghost of his lips on his own and busied himself with cooing over Pounce.

_Coward._

“Do you, uh,” he stammered and swallowed back the lump in his throat, “want to stay?”

_Smooth._

Fenris cocked his head and shifted on his feet. The simple gesture made Anders relax – it was good to know he wasn’t the only one being nervous.

“No, I won’t stay,” Fenris said quietly, but pushed himself off the doorway to step closer and pull Anders up from his crouching position with a gentle hand on his arms. “But I want to leave you this.”

His hands, warm and covered in white lines, seemed to leave imprints on the nerves in Anders’ skin as he felt them smooth through his hair and cup his face.

He leaned forward on his own this time and Fenris met him halfway.

 _He has to stand on his tiptoes_ , Anders realized when he felt Fenris sway slightly against him and this time he curled his arms around Fenris slim waist.

Fenris gasped against his lips in what might have been surprise or a soundless moan and his lips parted. Anders sighed when he felt bits of tongue and he tilted his head, tightening his arms around Fenris as he let him work for it, only slowly allowing him to lick his way into his mouth.

It was intense and Anders registered the sounds of crunching as Pounce enjoying his snacks and he felt joy burst in his chest at the knowledge that both he and his pet were content in this moment.

The kiss grew increasingly more passionate and Fenris hands changed position, one staying in Anders’ nape to keep him close while the other wandered down along his spine. For a moment Anders thought he might grab his arse and his hips bucked involuntarily.

Fenris grunted and gripped him tighter, deepening the kiss and Anders groaned in disappointment when the hand stopped at the small of his back.

They only broke apart because of the desperate need for air and Anders blinked down at Fenris, feeling dizzy but elated and he could feel his heartbeat in his stomach, pulsing against Fenris’ through the fabric of their clothes.

“Are you sure you won’t—”

“I’m sure.”

Fenris took a step back and shook his head, smiling ruefully when Anders’ shoulders slumped.

“I want to stay,” he said between pants and he really couldn’t have denied it, not with the way he had held onto Anders and how his pupils were blown wide, most likely mirroring Ander’s own. “But I won’t. I don’t…” He looked away and suddenly seemed nervous. “I don’t want to rush things. Not when I am not sure what this is going to be.”

Anders swallowed down his disappointment and the feeling of rejection.

“I understand,” he said and told himself that it wasn’t a lie. “We should… talk? But tomorrow. It’s late already, and I need to work...”

Fenris nodded and his smile was undoubtedly relieved. “Of course. I’ll… go.”

After a polite but awkward goodbye that involved a lot of nodding but no kissing Fenris was gone and Anders sat down on a chair in the kitchen.

Pounce was still munching on his snacks and for a while Anders watched him and wished he could be that easily pleased as well.


	9. Chapter 9

**To:** Anders (^ㅇㅅㅇ^❀)  
**From:** Unknown  
_What the fuck happened?!_

Anders blinked at the text, staring at the screen of his phone as if looking at it would magically make it make sense.

He put down his fork from where it was half raised to his mouth and put aside the bowl of salad he had brought from home to eat in his break at work.

 **To:** Unknown  
**From:** Anders (^ㅇㅅㅇ^❀)  
_Who is this?_

His phone vibrated again only seconds after.

 **To:** Anders (^ㅇㅅㅇ^❀)  
**From:** Unknown  
_It’s Bela_

_I won’t repeat myself_

_What the fucking fuck?!_

Anders frowned.

 **To:** Isabela  
**From:** Anders (^ㅇㅅㅇ^❀)  
_I didn’t do anything!_

After a second of contemplating he sent another text.

_Did I?_

This time it took Isabela a while to reply and Anders took the time to finish his salad. His break only lasted so long after all.

 **To:** Anders (^ㅇㅅㅇ^❀)  
**From:** Isabela  
_Alright, when are you free today? We need to talk._

Still confused, Anders told her when he got off work and they agreed to meet a short while after in the coffee shop in Hightown he had been to a few times before.

She was already waiting by the time he got there, lounging in a low loveseat and waving at him to get his order first.

Anders was feeling somewhat nervous – what had he done that was so urgent she had to meet him as soon as possible?

His mind wandered and he thought of ridiculous things, barely noticing that the cute barista seemed to eye him, a small voice at the back of his mind remembering that it was the same that had flirted with Justice.

Isabela smiled when he sat down opposite of her but didn’t get up to hug him as usual when they met which was more effective at making Anders feel like he fucked up than any glaring or words would have been.

He cleared his throat awkwardly and shifted in his seat, finding it hard to get comfortable, especially when Isabela followed his every movement when he pulled the beanie - Fenris’ beanie - off his head and stuffed it in his pocket.

“Uh… Hi?”

Bela raised a brow.

“Yeah, hi and whatever and how’re you, I’m fine thanks.” She leaned forward, slamming both her hands flat on the table as she looked straight at Anders. “Now tell me what happened. Everything. It’s important.”

Perplexed but effectively intimidated by both how she brought these words forward and how much cleavage she was showing him Anders squirmed, trying to hide behind his latte. “I, uh, still have no idea what you’re talking about. Sorry?”

Bela squinted but leaned back and crossed her arms, but her face softened.

“I’m talking about Fenris.” Before Anders could say anything (not that he had wanted to, he was too confused for an immediate reaction) she held up a hand to stop him. “Don’t even try to deny it. I know something happened that day after training. He won’t talk to me about it because he’s Fenris, so you’ll have to do.” The usual mischievous glint returned into her eyes as she winked at him. “And don’t leave out the dirty details.”

Anders sputtered. “I-- there-- nothing happened! Nothing of that sort anyways.”

She tsk-ed and Anders felt himself flush.

“I… how do you even figure something happened? Fenris hasn’t talked to me since then either!” Anders flinched at how hurt he sounded, even to himself. He had expected them to talk afterwards, only to realize that he didn’t even have Fenris’ number. He had been hesitant to ask Hawke for it but eventually he had given in and wrote his friend after coming up with an excuse about his hair.

Fenris hadn’t replied to any of his texts or any of the three times Anders had actually found the courage to call him.

Isabela squinted as she heard that, and for a second Anders would have sworn she looked worried.

“No fucking? Are you sure?”

“I am!” Anders glared. “We only… He walked me home and there might have been a kiss or two.”

She looked sceptical. “A... kiss?”

“Yes.”

“Did it last more than three seconds?”

“What?”

“Was there tongue?”

“Isabela!”

“You’re no fun!” She pouted for a second but then turned serious again. “Did you talk? After the kissing?”

Anders thought. “He, ah, said something about being not sure? He left when I… asked him to stay.”

Something like pity crossed over her face as he looked out the window.

“Fenris hasn’t been… Something’s up. Ever since that day he shut himself off, and I know that he has started drinking again, even called in sick at work. The last time he did that was when Hawke…”

She bit her lip and quickly looked at Anders who frowned.

“Since Hawke...?”

Isabela sighed and shuffled in her pillows. “You know how Hawke felt… feels about Fenris?”

Anders winced. _Not_ something he wanted to be reminded of.

“They… had a thing. A night together, as far as I understood it.” Isabela shrugged. “Fenris left, saying he couldn’t do it - ‘it’ being a relationship - and it broke Hawke’s heart. Wasn’t fun to be around either of them for a while after.”

Her gaze turned back on Anders, looking at him as if looking for something in his face.

“And then you showed up. Old friend of Hawke’s, stupidly attractive and talented too, and it turns out you’ve run into Fenris before and left that encounter with him _liking_ you.” She shrugged. “Not that he said that out loud, but it’s obvious for us who know him well. The thing with your hair…”

She half-scoffed, half-laughed and brushed her own hair over her shoulder, the gesture almost being a caress. “It took me _months_ until I could convince him to do mine, and we’ve been besties for ages.”

She paused, playing with her half empty cup of whatever creamy deliciousness she had ordered.

“I guess what I’m saying is that you better not play with him, or you’ll have to answer to me.” She squinted, then shrugged with sparkling eyes. “Wait, actually, I’m not saying that. Fenris is a strong and independent hairdresser who can take care of himself perfectly fine without my help. In fact, he’d probably strangle me if I threatened you… or just if he heard about this conversation. So… shush.”

She raised a finger to her lips and winked, then downed the rest of her drink and stood. “Well, I’ve got to go! I’m glad we talked. And just in case the two of you continue the thing you started… I call dibs on you telling me about how far down his tattoos go.”

Anders sputtered again and watched Isabela leave after a quick hug and leaving him completely dumbfounded in his seat.

It was obvious that she cared about Fenris and worried about him, even if she expressed it in a very… Bela kind of way. It made him wonder even more about what the kiss had meant to Fenris. And about all the unanswered texts.

He finished his latte and then pulled out his phone, suddenly determined.

He scrolled down to Fenris’ number and listened to the beeping of the line. As he waited, he didn’t feel all that sure of himself anymore, but then again, it wasn’t as if Fenris was going to pick up anyway—

_“Hello?”_

The voice from the other end of the line was deep and even hostile, somewhat uneven and Anders almost dropped his phone.

“Fenris!” he yelped and switched ear nervously. “I, ah, it’s Anders!”

He could hear shuffling and something that sounded like a muttered curse and his heart sank.

“I get that you probably don’t want to talk and I’m sorry if you’re busy right now, but you’ve avoided me long enough and now Isabela cornered me and I think we should really—”

_“She what?!”_

More cursing in what Anders now recognized as Tevene followed and he felt somewhat impressed.

 _“Fenhedis! Of course she did.”_ Fenris sighed long and pained and there was the clinking of glass and Anders remembered what Isabela had said about Fenris drinking more - was he drunk? _Oh Maker, what if he is?!_

_“Anders, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you like I did. I’m not... I can’t… You deserve more than this, I know, but I—”_

Anders sat completely still and time felt slow and heavy around him, the air thick and breathing was like pulling himself through streaming water.

“If you’re going to give me the whole ‘it’s me, not you’ speech I have to remind you that we are not actually in a relationship,” he found himself saying in a flat tone and rather quiet so when only silence followed he wondered if Fenris had hung up already.

_“Of course.”_

It was barely audible and Anders cringed mentally.

_“You’re right. I shouldn’t have… I won’t bother you anymore.”_

Alarmed, Anders sat up a straighter.

“Wait, Fenris-”

_Beep._

Frustrated, Anders lowered his phone. For a moment he considered calling Fenris again, but he probably wouldn’t take a second call anyways.

_Well, that could have gone better._

Anders cursed himself for handling it as he had, wishing he had stayed calmer.

“I’ll just try again tomorrow...” he muttered to himself. His coffee was cold and he left it, leaving the shop with hanging shoulders and the beanie stuffed in his pocket instead of on his head.


	10. Chapter 10

 

Not for the first time Anders wondered why he had even bothered coming to training that week. He hoped that he was the only one feeling the tension and awkwardness in the room but he doubted it. Not with how Fenris was making an effort to stay at the other end of the room, usually together with Isabela, both of them finding excuses so that Anders and him didn’t end up on stage together.

Luckily, at least Hawke stayed oblivious. He was practically bursting with energy, bouncing through the room like… _well, he’s too big for a fairy, but maybe like a mabari after being locked in a small room for a long time._

Anders almost sighed in relief when Hawke announced the playing over for now and ushered them closer, grinning at them widely.

“So,” he started, “we’re kind of late with planning a Christmas or New Year show as you might have noticed. We didn’t really have time to organize with Sebastian leaving, even if Anders is a more than worthy replacement.”

He bowed to Anders and the other’s clapped politely while Bela whistled to show her agreement.

“But we can’t do without a show completely, right?”

His grin was so wide it almost split his impressive beard.

“And I think it’s finally time to go for something a little more ambitious! I talked to Varric and he pulled some strings, so now…” He improvised an impromptu drum roll as he sprinted across the room to pull something from his coat at the wardrobe. “Ta da!”

He held up a thick stack of papers triumphantly and Anders felt sick. ‘ _Oooh_ ’s and ‘ _Aaah_ ’s went around the table and Hawke slapped it down and Isabela snatched it away immediately, Merrill and Bethany coming to crowd around her to look at the title.

“Holy shit!” Isabela cried out, eyes wide and shining. “You really got the script for ‘The Tale of the Champion’?!”

The others looked equally impressed and Bethany turned to Varric. “How did you do that? A popular play like that can’t be easy to get your fingers on.”

The man only shrugged. “I have my ways.”

The excitement was almost physical in the room, yet Anders still couldn’t bring himself to feel it. He stared at the white pages as the others flipped through them and began to talk about roles, but all he could think of was how to get out of this.

The sudden guilt was overwhelming and it felt like with the Wardens all over again, how excited they were about the play and how dedicated in the preparations… and he ruined it all. He swallowed thickly and looked at the people around him. Could he really abandon them all?

He had done it before, walking away from his friends, just this time there was nowhere to turn to. He had just found Hawke again and he had helped him build up new friendships here in Kirkwall, and it was unlikely that he would find such easy contact again in another city - and he couldn’t just leave his job…

“Anders?”

Anders flinched and blinked, suddenly realizing that he had been drifting off and got lost in his thoughts.

All of them were staring at him with worry, curiosity or mild confusion and he shifted uncomfortably.

“Sorry, I was thinking… What?”

Bela grinned and pointed at the script.

“We were saying that you should totally play the crazy mage revolutionary! He’s a healer and you’re a doctor, that’s basically the same! You’ll even get a dramatic death scene, we can get those theatre daggers and fake blood and I know for a fact that you’ll be able to make the whole audience cry.”

Anders swallowed, looking at the smiling faces around him. All but one, really, and even though he quickly skipped over it he knew that it was the only one not smiling.

“I, ah… I won’t take part in the play,” he said and it came out sounding a lot firmer than he felt.

For the first time this evening Hawke’s bright grin fell.

“Aw, but Anders!” he whined. “You can’t just let us hang here! I was planning you in for sure.”

Anders winced and guilt flared up so strong he almost felt sick and he stood so quickly he only barely avoided knocking over his chair.

“I’m sorry,” he somehow managed to say, feeling disoriented as he pulled on his coat and scarf.

“Anders, what...?” Hawke started but a slim hand on his arm stopped him, and when Hawke looked like he was about to protest Fenris shook his head.

“I... need to go...” Anders stammered more to himself than anybody and fled.

 

***

 

_Knock, knock, knock._

Anders grumbled and pressed the pillow tighter over his ears. It was the middle of the night and some idiot had first rung his doorbell and was now knocking at his door like a madman. If he wasn’t so tired, Anders would have worried about how someone had managed to get inside the building in the middle of the night, but maybe it was just a neighbour who forgot his key. Well, if it was, Anders wasn’t going to help them.

But the knocking was insisting and when Pounce jumped on the bed to curl against Anders’ chest he threw away his pillow and sat up, picking up Pounce as he stumbled to the door.

“That’s it,” he grumbled. “You wake up not only me but also my cat at this ungodly hour. This better be good.”

He opened the door and blinked at the figure standing there in surprise. His first reaction was wondering about when it had begun to snow before his mind clicked because it was _Fenris_ standing there, fist still raised to knock again, white hair almost shimmering in the light and not covered by a beanie (because it was _his_ now), dressed in leggings and coat and untied sneakers.

Fenris blinked at his naked chest just as surprised and Anders held Pounce before him like a shield, suddenly glad he had decided to wear the thick cotton pyjama pants and not his boxer briefs like he usually did.

Then he realized that Fenris was there and he stood up a bit straighter, clenching his jaw. The phone call was still vivid in his mind, as well as all the avoiding.

“What do you want?” he asked coldly and didn’t invite Fenris inside just yet, instead began to pet Pounce’s back which made him feel a bit like a supervillain from the movies.

Fenris shifted, a gesture that diverted attention to the form fitting leggings and he crossed his legs and through the thin material of his sneakers Anders could see that he was flexing his toes.

“I owe you an apology,” he said and sounded surprisingly even.

Anders swallowed and hoped it wasn’t too loud. “I believe you already apologized.”

Fenris seemed uncomfortable and stared down at his feet. “The last time we talked I… _Fenhedis_ , Anders, I’m sorry. I was drunk. I felt so miserable and I...” He hesitated and looked past Anders. “Do you mind me coming in?”

Anders sighed and stepped aside and he saw Fenris breathe out in relief. His resolve to stay cold faltered as he watched Fenris sit down on the couch in the living room, looking lost and exhausted.

“I don’t mean to sound as if I don’t want to work out… whatever it is that’s going on, but does it have to be in the middle of the night?” he said, a lot gentler than before and set Pounce back on the floor when the cat began to fuss.

“Ah, right.” Even when sitting Fenris still shifted when feeling nervous and Anders thought it was adorable. He sat down next to Fenris, not entirely at the other end of the couch but also not close enough to touch. “I just… couldn’t stop thinking about how I fucked this up. But I also didn’t know what exactly to tell you...”

“So you just ignored all my texts?”

Fenris winced. “I realize my behaviour hasn’t been ideal. I am not asking for forgiveness; I am merely hoping to set things right again. Or at least ease the tension between us.” He paused and looked at Anders. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while but couldn’t bring myself to take the first step. But then... at training…”

He trailed off and now it was Anders’ turn to shrink into the pillows. “Right. I, ah, could have handled that better too.”

Fenris turned so he could look at Anders, raising one leg to lay on the couch. “Hawke was very worried. I was worried. Was there something he... we did wrong? Are you alright?”

The worry was obvious in his voice and the pragmatic part of Anders that always seemed to sound more like Justice than himself pointed out how terribly smitten Fenris seemed. With him. The thought was as endearing as it was bewildering and Anders swallowed again, unable to meet Fenris’ eyes.

“I’m alright. You didn’t do anything wrong, it has something to do with... my past.” He bit his lip and chuckled. “Andraste’s ass, that sounds terribly dramatic, doesn’t it?”

Fenris didn’t return the tired smile and the look of worry didn’t disappear from his face.

Anders sighed again. “You remember that I was with the Wardens? I wasn’t a permanent member. That was what I told myself, anyways. But I went to all the training, no matter how busy I was with work. They didn’t do much improv at all, and I ended up taking part in a big production of ‘The Fifth Blight’. It was only helping out at first, but I ended up taking a role. But the job I had in Amaranthine… it wasn’t permanent. I got a better offer here in Kirkwall, at the Chantry Hospital. It was what I wanted. I’m not a professional actor, I’m a doctor. But the Wardens were counting on me, I… I didn’t know how to tell them I wouldn’t be part of the play. And before I could come up with a way… it was time to leave.”

He was quiet then, staring at his clasped hands in his lap. “I abandoned them. I told myself I would call Surana, or write her… but I never did.”

Fenris shifted closer, his knee almost nudging Anders’ thigh. “What about the Wardens? Didn’t they try to contact you?”

“Oh, I’m sure they did. I… My phone broke when I was moving. I never... got a chance to tell them about my new number.” It was a terrible excuse, the whole story was, and saying it aloud made it sound even more ridiculous.

Anders buried his head in his hands. “Maker, I’m such a coward. I feel terrible about all this but… I can’t seem to bring myself to make it right. And with every day that passes without me making a move, it seems to get worse. At least they must have found a replacement for me, they still went on tour on time and they seem to be having great success with the play.”

He sighed. “And now, when Hawke announced he wants to produce The Champion… I guess it all came back up. I have a firm job at the hospital here, but what if… it doesn’t seem fair towards the Wardens to take this role now.”

Anders didn’t dare to look at Fenris directly, but from the little he could see from the corner of his eye Fenris wasn’t looking at him either.

“I see,” he said quietly after what felt like ages. Anders could hear him swallow and decided to stay quiet. “Do… you remember the night when we first met?”

Anders looked up in confusion - of course he remembered that night! How could he possibly forget?

Fenris seemed to realize that it was a dumb question and continued swiftly. “I was in Darktown that night because I… I was at Hawke’s earlier.” He paused and swallowed again, audible in the quiet of the room.

“Hawke… loves me. He didn’t confess in those words, mind you, but he made his intentions… quite clear. And I went along with it. It felt good, to be with him, and we spent the night. Afterwards I… I realized I couldn’t do it. Hawke is a good friend and I guess I love him that way but… He wanted more and I couldn’t give that to him. I took advantage of him and his feelings to have a good time. I left. No explanation, no nothing. I just left.”

 _Sounds familiar_ , part of Anders muttered but he shoved that voice away.

“What I am trying to say is that we have all done mistakes we’re afraid to repeat. But if we get stuck in that fear, how are we supposed to move forward?” Fenris shifted, now fully turned towards Anders and Anders wondered when he had turned as well. They were face to face.

“You’re not Hawke. What I… feel for you is not the same as what I feel for him. I know that and yet…”

Anders understood, truly understood now and nodded.

Fenris was afraid of taking advantage and breaking his heart like he had broken Hawke’s - just like Anders feared he would have to abandon his friends and betray their trust as he had done with the Wardens.

“That’s why you wanted to take it slow,” Anders said and lifted his head to look at Fenris, small smile playing around his lips. “I guess I approve of the general idea, but I’m afraid that completely avoiding me is kind of _too_ slow.”

Fenris grimaced but he was looking at Anders again and was smiling as well. “Agreed. Let’s just say that I, ah, am not entirely confident in my…” He paused, reaching out slowly to gingerly trace lines only he could see on Anders’ knee. The touch was light and it made goose bumps rise all over Anders’ body as he held perfectly still to feel the soft fingertips as good as possible.

“You are stunning, Anders. I’ve never met anyone like you. I thought you irritating at first, weak and caught in your own perfect version of the world, but you managed to shatter everything I thought I knew about you. Maybe I’m the illusionary one… It makes me wonder if I am able to keep up, if I can give you what you deserve.”

Anders felt stunned (and very far from stunning); hearing Fenris saying these things to him was surreal. He was at loss for words and Fenris hand stilled on his thigh as the silence held on.

Fenris shifted nervously and his face was flushed adorably, making the white lines on his neck stand out even more. “I apologize if my words are inappropriate. I’m not exactly used to… all this…”

“Fenris,” Anders quickly interrupted him. “Shut up.”

Fenris grew very still beside him and pulled back his hand, shoulders slowly slumping and Anders realized his own words had come across a little differently than he had meant them to.

He reached out quickly to keep Fenris’ hand close, and took his other hand as well, leaning into the other’s personal space.

“I mean shut up and _kiss me_.”

The words registered as Fenris blinked slowly and the smile spreading over his face was brilliant and beautiful right before he leaned in to crush his lips to Anders’.

It was different from their previous kisses, nowhere near as careful and soft but hard and passionate - almost desperate if Anders was honest with himself.

Within seconds he was laying mostly on his back on the couch, Fenris, slim in his arms but heavy on top of him, pressing him into the pillows with his weight. He hadn’t taken off his coat and in this moment Anders wished he had been a better host and told Fenris to take it off. Then suddenly the coat was gone and Fenris’ hands were back on the sides of his head, both holding him close and caressing the stubble there.

Anders barely noticed when his hair tie was pulled loose but he moaned when nimble fingers began to comb through his hair and massaged the scalp, then suddenly fisted in the lengths and pulled back his head.

Anders gasped when his throat was bared to an eager mouth and he could only whimper when Fenris began to suck at the tender skin there, kiss and lick his way from one side of his jaw to the other and more gently down the line of his Adam’s apple to where neck met shoulders.

With the treatment he was getting Anders wasn’t sure exactly what Fenris was wearing under his coat but it was thin and warm, not hiding how firm Fenris was beneath it and yet terribly in the way. Tugging at the hems was only partly successful since Fenris only pressed himself closer and muffled Anders’ demands to take off his shirt with open-mouthed kisses, so Anders contented himself with slipping his hands under the shirt for now.

Fenris was demanding when kissing and didn’t shy away from nibbles and small bites which turned Anders’ legs into jelly, and made him glad they were already laying down.

Ridiculously, Anders had to think of Isabela and how she had (tried to) interrogate him about kissing Fenris. There was definitely tongue involved and should the topic ever come up again Anders decided that it was only fair to tell her that Fenris was a good kisser.

“I want you,” he panted into the almost non-existent space between them and he had to blink to focus on Fenris eyes because they were so close. His pupils were blown so wide the green barely showed and Anders was pretty sure his were in a similar state.

Fenris growled in reply and this time Anders could actually _feel_ the sound and it made his eyelids flutter. He was hard under the wool of his pyjama pants and Fenris was grinding against him, his own leggings not hiding his arousal either.

But Fenris leaned back and Anders groaned in disappointment as the other licked his lips, taking a few breaths so he was able to talk.

“I--”

“If you’re about to tell me you won’t stay after _this,_ I swear to the Maker that you’ll never be welcome here again,” Anders panted and refused to uncurl his arm from the slim waist he held.  “We talked already. Now finish what you started.”

Fenris was scowling and for a moment Anders thought he would actually leave but then he relaxed and leaned in to press a quick peck to Anders’ lips.

“Alright. You… I want you too. I’m just not sure that I… that we--”

“Fenris,” Anders interrupted. “You’re intriguing, you’re beautiful, you’re talented and just said things to me that I’ve only read in romance novels before. If you’re worried about going too fast, I promise we can go on as many dates and do the sappiest things we can think of. After you fucked me.”

For a few moments he feared he had scared the other away, but then a familiar wry smirk spread over Fenris’ face.

“That can be arranged.”


	11. Chapter 11

They moved to the bedroom because beds were still exponentially more comfortable than couches for their purpose and this one was readily available.

Anders was suddenly glad that he went through the trouble of always having condoms and lube in his nightstand by the bed (of course Justice had ended up moving that part of the furniture and had looked mildly horrified and embarrassed to find the contents of the drawer - Anders figured that while his brother liked to be protective he hadn’t wanted to know about _that_ part of his sibling’s life).

He was also glad for his lack of shirt now and his loose pants (that had ended up surprisingly restricting) were easy to remove. He was already sitting on the sheets when Fenris pulled off his own shirt, revealing a well-toned torso that usually would have left Anders feeling mildly jealous. As it was he was focused completely on Fenris’ tattoos though. They seemed to glow in the half-dark of the room, white and beautiful on the dark skin.

They followed the natural lines of his muscles in ornamental swirls and coils and Anders couldn’t help but reach out and trace a line of white ink across Fenris’ chest. A muscle twitched under the touch and Anders looked up with a smirk.

Fenris’ lips were parted and his breathing uneven as he stared at Anders, eyes wide and drinking in the sight.

Anders wondered how he compared to Hawke but pushed the thought away - Fenris was here with him, and not with Hawke, after all. He slowly trailed his finger lower over the flat stomach and more muscles jumped in its wake.

“ _So_ …” Anders drawled as he began to play with the elastic waistband of the leggings, pushing it low over Fenris’ hipbones. He realized he couldn’t see the end of some of the white lines and it made him even more excited about undressing Fenris. “Will you take these off, or should I do it for you?”

“Go ahead,” Fenris said, not sounding as calm as he usually would have and his smirk was a bit less wry due to his parted lips and breathy pants.

Anders grinned and ran his finger over the very obvious bulge. His other hand had wandered between his own legs where he lazily fisted his own erection, but his focus was on Fenris in front of him.

He wasn’t done with teasing entirely and he could hear Fenris breath catch when he leaned forward to mouth at him through the leggings. The fabric turned damp from his breath quickly but Anders didn’t mind as he nuzzled the erection and breathed in Fenris’ scent. It suddenly hit him that Fenris couldn’t possibly be wearing underwear if he could feel and smell him so clearly already and that was what made him lean back and pull down the waistband entirely - he had been right, and he gave Fenris an impressed glance.

“No underwear?”

Fenris shrugged and managed to look both embarrassed and smug. “Let’s just say that coming here was an impulse decision, and I sleep naked--”

“That’s so _hot_.” Anders didn’t give Fenris the time to properly step out of his leggings but reached out to pull him closer by the hips. He shifted them until Fenris was kneeling over him, legs to either side of Anders’ chest as he himself laid back on the bed.

Fenris’ crotch was right above him and he eagerly licked over the underside of the gorgeous cock that was so nicely presented for him. If Fenris was overwhelmed he didn’t let it show, grumbling his approval as he supported his weight with one palm on the sheets above Ander’s head while the other caressed the healthy strands of hair and the short stubble, enticing happy noises from Anders.

Anders explored Fenris’ erection with his tongue and lips, nibbling and kissing not only along the shaft but also the soft balls right behind it. One of his hands was holding Fenris’ hip above him as the other wandered back between his own legs.

Once he had memorized the new shape and weight of Fenris’ cock he took the head in his mouth, sucking lightly as he swirled his tongue over the very tip and pressed against the small slit. It made Fenris moan, so he did it again.

He didn’t take him in all the way and he could feel Fenris growing impatient, wanting to thrust himself deeper but not daring to, not with Anders’ hand holding him still, even though both of them knew he’d be able to break the grip easily.

Fenris growled when Anders gently ran his teeth over the glans and pulled back to crouch over Anders’ chest and look down at him. “I believe you said something about fucking?”

Anders grinned up at him and nodded as he licked over his lips and wiped his chin clean. “I did. Lowest drawer of the nightstand.”

While Fenris got the lube and condoms and pulled his leggings off completely, Anders scooted to the middle of the bed and arranged the pillows to get comfortable.

Before Fenris snuggled up to him Anders noticed that the tattoos really covered all of his body, from fingers and chin down to his toes.

“They really are everywhere,” Anders said in fascination and Fenris rolled his eyes as he settled down next to him and pulled their bodies together. “Are they--”

“I’ll tell you later,” Fenris interrupted with an impatient kiss. “Maybe.”

Anders only chuckled and curled his arms back around him to deepen the kiss. For a few minutes they only made out, sloppily and with a lot of tongue and it was glorious and when Anders noticed that Fenris rather liked it when he made noises he was a bit more vocal than usual. He yelped when Fenris bit the side of his neck and received soothing kisses and licks as apology.

“If that turns into a hickey, you’ll have to be the one to fill in Bela!”

Fenris laughed, the sound deep and wonderful with his voice husky from arousal. “She’ll be insufferable,” he kissed the place again, making Anders shudder. “Don’t worry, I don’t think it’ll be visible over the collar of your coat.”

Anders grumbled half-heartedly and spread his legs as Fenris leaned back to settle between them and reached for the lube he had put next to them on the blankets. He snapped open the bottle but before squeezing out the contents on his hand, Fenris paused and looked up at Anders.

“You’re alright with this?”

For a moment Anders was sure Fenris was joking. “Fenris, if you don’t get on with--”

“That’s not what I meant,” Fenris raised a hand soothingly and rubbed over Anders’ thigh. “I meant, are you okay with how we’re doing this?” He gestured between them and shifted a bit so that Anders’s legs were curled more obviously around him.

“Believe me, I’m more than fine with this,” he grinned. “I want you inside me. I want you to fuck me.” He paused as well. “That is, if you wanted I could…?”

“No, I like it this way too. For today,” Fenris winked and finally coated his fingers with the lube. He nudged Anders’ legs apart a bit further and pulled one over his shoulder so he had better access.

Anders cursed when the cold liquid touched his sensitive cleft and Fenris grumbled apologetically, but soon the pleasure of being caressed pushed the uneasiness away. As it turned out, Fenris liked teasing just as much and Anders’ bucked his hips impatiently.

“Come on,” he panted. “Get inside me!”

Fenris smirked, eyes fixed on where Anders was bared for him, watching his entrance twitch every time his fingers got close. Anders’ whining bore fruits though, because after applying a bit more lube onto his ass Fenris finally pushed a finger inside.

Anders gasped and spread his legs wider on instinct. He hadn’t done this in a while but Fenris was slow and took his time, long enough for Anders to start squirming and whining again.

His demands were silenced with a deep kiss and Fenris’ greedy lips swallowed his gasp when a second finger eased its way inside him. The fingers moved slightly, crooking and thrusting carefully and eventually found Anders’ prostate, making him moan as the spot got rubbed, first with two and soon with three fingers and his eyes fluttered shut.

Anders wanted nothing more than Fenris to hurry up but he figured that showing impatience would encourage more teasing, so he moaned loudly, hoping to entice and sure enough the fingers pulled away. He still whined at the loss and opened his eyes to watch Fenris pull the condom from the wrapper, which he had wisely opened before slicking up his hands, and roll it onto his cock.

For a few seconds Fenris seemed to think about how to do it, then he leaned over Anders to kiss him while his hands moved between them, guiding Anders’ legs to the side and lining up his cock while he thrusted his tongue into Anders’ mouth in a mock version of what they were going to do.

“Ready?” he purred and Anders made a needy noise when he felt the head nudge against his hole - just a little adjusting and then Fenris pushed inside and Anders let his head fall back into the pillows.

Fenris grunted as he sheathed himself fully and then paused to give Anders time to get used to the feeling. He wasn’t the biggest Anders ever had but he appreciated the sentiment and let his body take the time to fully relax, then opened his eyes and rolled his hips slowly.

“Ready.”

At first the thrusts were slow and short as Fenris tested the waters, eyes never leaving Anders’ face as he watched for signs. Anders kept his eyes open as well and locked with Fenris’ and that made the experience all the more intense. But then the thrusts sped up, turning deeper and rubbing his insides just right and Anders couldn’t focus anymore.

“Ah! Yes!” he moaned and wrapped his legs around Fenris’ hips, rocking his whole body every thrust. He could feel harsh breath in his hair and on his skin and his fingers were digging into lean muscles that felt heated and sweaty from exertion.

The rhythm faltered when Fenris reached out to push a pillow under Anders’ lower back and while at first it irritated him he soon found that he liked the new angle even better. It made him want to cry out every time Fenris pushed in to the hilt, but out of habit he began to bite his lips to keep quiet.

Suddenly there were lips on his again, the thrust turning into a deep grinding that had Anders whining while Fenris kissed his mouth open.

“Don’t do that. I want to hear you.”

At first Anders was reluctant to be loud (he had neighbours after all), but then Fenris did something with his hips, adding a little twist to the end of every thrust after shifting his weight a bit and seconds later he had Anders screaming.

“Fuck! D-Do that again!”

There was no need to ask twice and Fenris was grinning smugly. Anders didn’t see it, eyes pressed shut as he forgot about wanting to restrain his voice. He stopped clinging to Fenris and pushed one hand between their bodies to curl fingers around his own cock and stroke it vigorously.

“F-Fenris, I’m--”

“I know,” the answer was barely more than a pant, hot breath flushing against his sternum. “Do it, I’m close too.”

Anders came after a few more strokes and arched as far as it was possible with Fenris still on top of him. He shuddered through his orgasm and tightened around Fenris, and if the choked sound above him meant anything the reaction was appreciated.

He pulled his hand away and forced his body to stay tight until Fenris’ thrust grew erratic and he came as well - then he allowed himself to slump onto the pillow.

Fenris had the mind to pull out and dispose of the condom before flopping into the sheets next to Anders and pulled him to his chest.

Anders nuzzled against him and for a while they just rested, letting their breathing calm and their bodies cool down.

“That was--”

“Thank you.”

They spoke at the same time and smiled at each other, enjoying the silence and cuddling for a few moments. Then Anders’ spoke up again. “I take it you enjoyed yourself?”

“I did.”

Fenris’ hands were in his hair again and Anders wondered if having a professional hairdresser taking a liking to one’s hair was something to be proud of. He busied himself with trailing the lines on Fenris’ chest again, not daring to meet the other’s eyes for his next question.

“So… are you leaving?”

Fenris stilled - but he also didn’t get up to run.

“I’m not,” he said then, very quietly. “I would very much like to stay, if you’ll let me.”

“Of course I’ll let you!” Anders leaned back and up on his elbows. “Do you really think I would kick you out?”

Fenris sat up and shrugged a bit sheepishly, shifting his weight on his haunches and took a pack of tissues from the nightstand to wipe at the wet spots. “That’s not… I don’t think that. When I said stay… I guess I meant not only stay here now, but also staying together… being together.”

Anders raised his brows but let Fenris talk when it became obvious that he wasn’t finished yet.

“If you’d like, we could try this. I cannot promise anything, I’ve never really… done this before,” he made a vague gesture.

“‘This’ being a relationship?” Anders asked and took a tissue to wipe himself clean when Fenris nodded, then stood and threw the used ones away. He smiled reassuringly. “I think trying it out sounds lovely.”

Fenris relaxed and Anders excused himself for a quick use of the bathroom. He didn’t bother to dress himself when he came back and snuggled under the covers against Fenris.

“I think we should keep quiet about us for now.”

Anders frowned. “You want to keep us a secret?”

“Not a secret. Just don’t rub it into everyone’s faces either.” _‘Everyone’_ probably meaning Hawke.

Anders nodded. It made sense to not mention it to Hawke right away, but at the same time it felt a bit as if Fenris was denying their relationship - or what would be a relationship. Or maybe more like dating? Anders sighed.

He pushed the thought aside and nuzzled Fenris’ shoulder instead.

“You promised to tell me about your tattoos!”

Fenris scowled but it looked more long-suffering than truly upset. “I didn’t promise you anything. I’m… not exactly fond of the story.”

Anders felt his features soften as he listened to Fenris say that - he knew that feeling he heard in the other’s voice all too well. “You don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“I… want to tell you. Or at least I _want_ to want to tell you.” He shifted until he was laying on his back and Anders could curl against his side and rest his head on Fenris’ chest with nimble fingers playing with his hair. “I’m adopted. I cannot remember much about my childhood; the psychologist says it’s because of the stress I went through before the adoption. It doesn’t really matter - what does is that I was always with my foster dad, an upper class asshole from Tevinter: Danarius.”

Fenris’ nostrils flared as he spat the name, a harsh contrast to how gently he combed through the light strands. “At first I loved him. He was everything I had, all I wanted was his approval. As I got older that changed. We fought. It didn’t end well and I ran. He followed and caught me, and I ran again… The tattoos I got when I was on the run. At first it was mostly to spite him, only where he wouldn’t see them when he caught up again. Then it seemed like a ritual, spreading my hate for him all over my body like a disease festering inside, growing every time the circle of running, being caught and running again repeated itself. I think I sometimes wanted him to take me home, just so that I could run once more… I was reckless and I didn’t notice when it changed. One time after being dragged home I wasn’t locked into my room like usual. I was beaten and bound and locked in the cellar. It became harder to escape then; the punishments became worse. It… escalated.”

He moved his hand to rub over the stubble on the side of Anders’ head. “I knew that I had to get away for good. It took me a while, but in the end, I managed. I took as much of his money as I could and ran. Not just a few cities over. I fled Tevinter and I didn’t stop running for a long time. Kirkwall was the first time I allowed myself to rest.”

“That... Danarius,” Anders asked slowly. “Is he still looking for you?”

“I don’t know. He might be, he might not. It’s been years now. But even if he finds me - I built my own life now, I won’t be as easy to take as when I was a teenager. I… like to think that I’m finished with that chapter of my life. But then I look into the mirror and I see the memento of my hate for him. That makes it hard to let go.”

Anders had the urge to shy away, to stop touching the white lines and never touch them again, to never remind Fenris of his past. But he stopped himself and leaned up so he could look at Fenris and cup his face.

“It’s sad that something so beautiful bears so much hate,” he said softly. “I’m sorry that happened to you, Fenris.”

The kiss that followed was slow and gentle and Fenris broke it with a scoff and a smile. “Don’t worry. I’m sorry if I bothered you with that sob story.”

“Well, I was asking for it.” Anders shook his head, then pursed his lips and rubbed the stubble at his nape. “If you wanted, I could share a sob story as well. You know, so we both know something intimate about each other.”

Fenris smiled. “I’d like that.”

Anders settled back against his chest and busied his hands with rubbing Fenris’ chest, and he sighed contently when he felt fingers in his hair again - it was a familiar gesture by now.

“I’m claustrophobic, or I guess you could call it that. I panic in small, closed off spaces, the darker it is the worse it gets. I… wasn’t always like that. I’m not sure if I mentioned it before, but I used to go to boarding school - my parents were always busy when they were still alive and my brother couldn’t look after me either, so boarding school it was. I hated it there, all the rules and restrictions… I couldn’t even chose when I wanted to eat, or what I wanted to eat, and we had those stupid uniforms. I ran several times too.” He smiled at the similarities in their stories. “Of course, I never got very far and they always got me back. That’s not the point of this story though. I was kind of a troublemaker - nothing serious, mind you, but there are always people upset by harmless pranks. A bunch of bullies thought it would be fun to lock me into a closet in the cellar of the gym hall, throw the key away and then conveniently forget about me. So when I was suddenly gone, everyone assumed I just ran again…”

The memory still made him shudder and he concentrated on the heat of Fenris’ body beside his own, on the shadows the streetlights threw on the walls and the sound of another heart beating close to his ear.

“I can’t have been down there for more than a few days, but it felt like a lifetime. I was a mess for weeks after the janitor found me and got me out. It was my brother who demanded to take me from boarding school and he won the fight in the end, being old enough to look after me by the time. I met Hawke at the school I went to after, by the way.”

Fenris nodded and now it was him who pulled Anders into a soothing kiss, holding him tight and secure and made Anders forget about being locked in the cold and dark all alone again.

“Thank you for telling me,” he said sincerely and Anders shrugged.

“Well, it will keep you from asking awkward questions when I insist on taking the stairs instead of the elevator.”

Fenris chuckled and kissed him again and this time the kiss deepened, leaving them panting after a few minutes.

Anders fell asleep way too late but happy with Fenris against his back.


	12. Chapter 12

Anders woke up because someone was sneezing beside his ear.

At first he was confused - since when did Pounce sneeze like that? - but the sniffling that followed as all too human, as were the arms wrapped around him.

Fenris was still there, in his bed. Naked.

Anders blinked himself awake and turned to face Fenris who was either woken up by his shifting or hadn’t been sleeping anymore in the first place. From the way his nose was reddened at the tip and the mountain of used tissues by the pillow Anders assumed it was the latter.

“Are you alright?” he slurred, rubbing his eyes and then Fenris’ sides.

The object of his worries only shrugged. “It’s because of my allergy. I already kicked the cat out of the bed but there’s hairs everywhere.”

Anders wasn’t quite sure if he should be offended that Fenris had kicked Pounce from the bed or if he should take pity. He decided that he couldn’t deal with this yet and climbed over Fenris to stumble into the bathroom and splash his face with cold water to wash away the sleepiness. From a look at the clock he gathered it wasn’t even five AM yet - but given that his alarm would go in half an hour anyways he might as well stay up.

When he came back into his room, Fenris and Pounce were holding a staring contest, one sitting on the bed curled in a heap of blankets that almost swallowed him whole while the other stood by the door, back tense and unblinking.

“Now, boys,” Anders chided and stepped between the two, unable to hide his smirk when he easily got their attention which might partly be due to his lack of clothes. “There’s enough of me for both of you. No reason to fight.”

Fenris snorted but relaxed, then sniffled and reached out to take Anders’ hand and pull him close. He buried his face against Anders’ chest and made a noise at the back of his throat while blowing out air that might have been a sigh or a groan or just an attempt to get enough air to breathe through his clotted nose.

Neither of them said anything but Anders smiled and gently petted the tuft of white hair before rubbing his way down over neck to the shoulders which soon relaxed under the soft pressure he applied.

“I’m glad I stayed,” Fenris rumbled and moved his head to nuzzle against Anders, then placed his chin gingerly against the other’s sternum to look up. “I haven’t slept this well in a while.”

Anders winked but his happy smile was genuine. “You’re welcome in my bed anytime, to sleep and for… other activities.”

Fenris lips twisted into the familiar wry smirk. “I’ll take you up on that offer. It has been a while that I’ve been this satisfied--” His face suddenly twisted and he sneezed, filling the room with a surprisingly squeaky noise, “--as well.”

That left Anders laughing and he pulled Fenris up and handed him a tissue, waiting patiently until he had cleaned his nose. “I take that as a compliment. Really though, I’m… very happy it worked out this way.”

They smiled and kissed gently, then deeper until Anders ended up sitting on the bed with Fenris straddling his lap, slowly pushing him back down into the sheets without parting their lips to--

Pounce jumped on the bed with a demanding meow and Fenris recoiled when his field of view was invaded by a fluffy ball of fur.

“Pounce!” Anders protested but laughed as he pulled the cat away and sat up, trying to suppress his giggling when he saw Fenris making faces and sputtering.

“There’s cat hair on my tongue!” Fenris looked decidedly unamused and stuck his tongue out, twisting and rubbing it carefully to get rid of the taste and feel, eventually leaving for the bathroom.

“Don’t be jealous, you’re still the one true love of my life,” Anders soothed Pounce while Fenris was gone and cooed over the now happily purring cat that had taken back its rightful spot on Anders’ pillow.

Both of them had to go to work soon and Anders let himself be convinced to leave Fenris’ personal cat hell in favour of going to get a coffee on their way to work - after all they both worked in Hightown.

They went to the coffee shop that had become Anders’ usual, which Fenris frequented as well as it turned out - it really made the best coffee in the area. It was surprisingly full despite the early hour, but most people just stopped by to grab their coffee-to-go so they easily found a quiet corner to sit down and relax.

Fenris was still sniffing but no longer sneezing now that that he was no longer in cat-range and the red at the tip of his nose was more from the cold outside - it had snowed a bit overnight - but even that was fading in the warm interior filled with the aroma of good coffee.

Anders told Fenris about his usual day at the hospital filled with parents (mostly angry or worried or both) and children (mostly crying or excited or both) and in turn Fenris showed Anders his diary with names and times of the clients that had appointments with him today, relaying anecdotes or useless information about them - apparently a lot of people liked to talk with their hairdresser.

“That’s the only downside of my job,” Fenris said dryly. “People seemed to think that cutting their hair is an invitation to tell me about their problems and whole life stories.”

“I’m pretty sure a few grunts and nods at the right place is enough for them to be happy,” Anders laughed and tried to imagine Fenris listening attentively while Grand Cleric Elthina told him about the newest gossip from the Chantry.

He was just about to ask if Fenris ever heard anything truly juicy when he spotted a familiar face in the crowd heading their way. Justice looked as severe as always and Anders felt a spike of anxiety as he wondered how he should introduce Fenris. Before he could really come up with a way, Justice had reached the table and put a hand on Anders’ shoulder, squeezing it lightly in greeting.

“Anders. I don’t usually see you here at this time. Is something wrong?”

His eyes were practically burning through Fenris, his expression turning sour as he took in the white hair and tattoos - of course he didn’t approve and Anders rubbed the stubble on the back of his neck nervously.

“Ah, good morning, Justice.” He turned to Fenris and gestured to the man still standing stiffly beside them, one hand holding his coffee-to-go, the other hand still on Anders’ shoulder in a fiercely protective gesture that reminded Anders of back when he had still been in school.

“I’m Justice, Anders’ older brother,” Justice announced before Anders could say anything. He finally took his hand from Anders’ shoulder to offer it to Fenris, and when he squeezed firmly during the shake Fenris’ expression didn’t change - he didn’t flinch or cower at all, just calmly looked at the tall blond man without being intimidated by his piercing stare.

“I’m Fenris,” he said, barely even loud enough to be heard over the noise of the shop but with a calm assurance that radiated confidence and Anders realized that this was Fenris’ way to puff out his chest - and one of the things he found so irresistibly attractive about him. Justice seemed impressed by it and nodded in what might even have been something like the begin of respect, but Fenris wasn’t quite done yet. “I’m Anders’ boyfriend.”

Both of the brothers tensed at those words, though for very different reasons.

Usually so severe and collected, Justice face was an open book as he went through a broad range of feelings in mere moments, all of them easy to read: horror that his little brother suddenly had a partner he knew nothing about, suspicion about who this stranger was, worry about Anders getting hurt, determination to protect him from anything that might happen.

Anders barely noticed it in his own storm of emotions. At first he was surprised, then mortified - had he forced Fenris into this the night before? Was this really what he - what _they_ \- wanted? Didn’t he want to take it slow? But the worry was immediately overshadowed by the rush of joy that warmed him up better than his coffee had and he had to bit the insides of his cheeks to not start grinning like an idiot.

He had a boyfriend. _Fenris_ was _his_ _boyfriend_.

He relaxed, reaching out to take Fenris’ hand and squeezed it and the faint lines that had appeared on Fenris’ forehead after seeing Anders tense disappeared.

“You have a boyfriend?” Justice asked flatly and stared at their clasped hands like it was a thorn in his side.

“I do,” Anders said and this time he couldn’t hold back his smile and he might have grown a little in his seat as he felt Fenris’ squeeze his hand and saw the corners of his mouth twitch in a tiny, private smile. “Don’t worry - I didn’t hide anything from you. We only got together very recently and didn’t have the time to announce it to anybody yet.”

“I see.”

Justice seemed to relax without giving up all of his suspicion and pointed at the seat opposite of the couple. “May I sit with you?”

Anders gestured him to go ahead and Justice folded himself into the low loveseat - the red leather looked ridiculous next to his uniform and cool gaze.

“How did you meet?” he asked, and Anders groaned internally - he would have a word with Justice about this interrogation later.

“Fenris is friends with Hawke. We both go to the theatre group.”

Of course Justice wasn’t happy to hear that and Anders was glad when Fenris scooted a bit closer to him on the couch they shared, their thighs almost touching, one arm resting on the backrest behind Anders.

“I work as a hair stylist at L’Yrium Kirkwall,” he explained casually and while Anders wasn’t sure if it was meant to impress Justice, it was definitely lost on him either way.

Justice frowned, “Isn’t that a shampoo brand?”

That had Fenris raise a brow.

“We do have our own line of products - several actually. I work in a salon though. In fact--” He reached out to gently caress Anders’ stubble and playfully tug at his ponytail, making Anders shudder. “--I was the one to cut Anders hair.”

Justice only nodded, squinting at the touch they shared and then stood, adjusting his belt (and the attached gun holster) before he took his coffee.

“It was nice to meet you, Anders. Fenris,” he nodded at both of them. “We’ll see each other.”

He left and when the door had closed behind him Anders sank into the pillows and groaned as he buried his face in his hands.

“You know, I thought I would be spared the whole intimidating-my-boyfriend game when my father died, but… Andraste’s flaming knickers, that was embarrassing! I promise he isn’t usually like this.” Anders paused and grimaced. “No, actually, that is exactly how he is most of the time. Maker, I’m sorry…”

He stopped with his babbling when there was no verbal reply of any form, and when he checked, Fenris was laughing, arms crossed over his belly as he wheezed soundlessly, the only noise and occasional deep grumbling half-laugh from the back of his throat, a sound that vibrated pleasantly through Anders and settled right at his core.

“He seems… charming,” Fenris said deadpan as he had calmed again. “I’m effectively intimidated.”

Anders snorted but relaxed as well.

“He’ll come around to like you. Sometimes I think that for him I’m still a teenager with a stupid crush on my tutor for which he would scold me but not really because he actually sort of liked the guy… I think he assumed I would get back together with Karl, given we stayed in contact and all…”

“Who’s Karl?” Fenris asked, a question that could have easily sounded jealous or possessive but seemed genuinely curious.

“Childhood friend… and my crush for the majority of my school life. He was my tutor, back at boarding school. He and Surana - from the Wardens - were the only things that made it bearable there. We kept in contact, even after I left. We were sort of together for a while, and while Justice didn’t approve - Karl’s a bit older than I am - he tolerated him, and I supposed he grew used to him? Karl lives in Kirkwall too, by the way, he works for the Chantry. We meet every few weeks.”

Fenris nodded and sipped on his coffee, but said nothing else, and Anders turned to him.

“You’re not jealous or anything?”

“Why would I be?” Fenris shrugged. “You said you knew him for a long time, even had something with him. But now you choose to be with me. That’s enough.”

He cocked his head and smirked, reaching out to follow the edge of Anders’ hairline with his finger. “Or do I have reason to be jealous?”

“No,” Anders breathed and leaned forward to press a kiss to Fenris’ lips. It was soft and tasted of coffee and even though it was chaste, just a brush of lips, it made Anders melt and the warmth flooded through him again, making him feel cozy and a bit dizzy. But it was a good kind of dizzy.

“So… boyfriends?”

Fenris chuckled.

“Yes.”

They kissed deeper and Anders felt Fenris’ arms curled around him, holding him close and firm and it felt so good that a part of him couldn’t believe it was real. His heart was beating fast but steady and he could feel Fenris’ pulse against his body, a wonderful sound that jumped when Anders licked over Fenris’ lips.

But Fenris leaned back to break the kiss without letting go of Anders. “We should get going. I have my work clothes at the salon but I need to freshen up either way… and your shift should start in about ten minutes.”

Anders bolted and fished his phone from his pocket to check the time - Fenris was right and Anders jumped up, trying to shrug into his coat while holding his coffee and walking out of the shop already feeling flustered and a bit disoriented with the taste of Fenris’ still on his lips.

Fenris followed him with a laugh and ended up holding his coffee for him and even as he went to the hospital in a rush, his cheeks stayed flushed happily the whole day.


	13. Chapter 13

“You know, it would be a lot easier if you just came to training with me,” Fenris said casually. It wasn’t the first time he had said it either, and combined with how calm and unassuming he said it drove Anders mad.

So Anders only clenched his teeth and pretended he hadn’t heard, clattering loudly with the dishes. It was two weeks after they had established their relationship and they spent all the time they could together, with anything they could come up with that new couples did. They went to the movies, to a fancy restaurant, took a long walk in the park, went to the pharmacy to buy pills that would suppress Fenris’ allergic reaction to Pounce.

Today they had decided to cook together, in Fenris’ apartment since his kitchen was bigger. If Anders was fair, the whole apartment was bigger, better, had a better view and overall layout and was decidedly above what Anders could afford.

When Fenris told him he lived in Hightown Anders hadn’t expected him to live in one of the old mansions - original buildings - that had been modernized on the inside to turn the spacious rooms into several apartments. Living there cost a fortune (Anders had looked it up). It made Anders wonder what Fenris earned, and he was both glad and mortified that Fenris had not let him pay for the haircut since he was getting the feeling it would have cost a _bit_ more than Anders had estimated, coupon or not.

When he had joked about what could have made Fenris want to live alone in such a spacious apartment, his boyfriend had explained that he needed the extra space for his wine collection - he said it so deadpan that Anders had laughed, but when he lay eyes on the actual collection all he could do was stare.

It was… a lot of wine.

Fenris actually drank the wine though, or at least used it for cooking, though Anders wasn’t sure if that specific bottle they had used for the sauce had ever really been part of the actual collection. Not that it mattered much to him, he was not a connoisseur.

The wine Fenris had served for dinner _had_ been good though, very good, which was why Anders was a bit less careful than he usually would have been as he filled the dishwasher.

Over the clattering, he didn’t hear Fenris approach and almost jumped when Fenris gently took the dishes from him, though not without pressing a kiss into his nape.

“I’m not saying you should take the role, Anders. Just let them know you’re alright.”

Those words made guilt flare up in Anders. Ever since he stormed from training the day the play had been announced, Anders had received countless worried messages. He had eventually (after gentle but insisted prodding from Fenris) called Hawke and apologized for his sudden disappearance, vaguely hinting at bad past experiences and that for now he wouldn’t take part in the play.

Hawke had been relieved first and foremost, not being mad or disappointed in the slightest and that made Anders feel even guiltier than anything else. The messages had slowed down after that - Hawke had presumably told the others - but Anders still left them unanswered, unsure what to say, and with each day that passed it got worse.

It made him lay awake at night, heart sinking and stomach twisting with sickness - it was like with the Wardens all over again. He had let his friends down.

The only thing that made him not despair completely was Fenris. They met up as often as possible and his touch and voice were as mesmerizing as always, soothing him and making him feel at ease or causing his heartbeat and breathing to pick up.

In the end, that only added to the guilt though - Fenris was friends with the whole group after all and still saw them almost every week, having to lie to them for Anders’ sake.

He had not complained about it yet, but that made it worse, in a way that made Anders feel sick.

 _How can I be so happy and unhappy at the same time?_ Anders wondered.

Fenris cleared his throat behind him and hugged Anders, distracting him effectively with a soft kiss.

“You’re thinking about it; I can see it. You’re making that face, as if there is something eating you up from the inside.”

Anders winced - that wasn’t all that inaccurate.

Fenris continued, “I think Bela is suspecting something. She knows I’m still in contact with you, and she has been… dropping side remarks about what kind of contact that may be.”

If he hadn’t been so worried, Anders would have rolled his eyes about Bela. Instead he groaned and hid his face against Fenris’ shoulder, letting himself be lead backwards out of the kitchen and on Fenris’ huge black leather couch where he curled up and tried to fold himself into his boyfriend’s arms.

“You shouldn’t have to keep lying for me. I’m sorry I’m such a mess.”

Fenris said nothing at first, only rubbed Anders’ back, fingers following the bumps of his spine up and down.

“Come with me to training next week. Just to see them. We don’t need to tell them anything.” Before Anders could object he continued. “If nothing else convinces you, then I have to tell you that since we’re one actor down Carver has taken over reading the character you were supposed to play, and while his dedication is admirable…”

Anders snorted in disbelief and amusement. “That’s bribery! I cannot save you from that!”

“I don’t think he really understands that acting and dramatic reading is not the same.” Fenris smirked and Anders shuddered in horror as he tried to imagine what it was like to have Carver blather about revolution in a dramatic voice.

“Alright, you… might have convinced me.”

“Already?” Fenris quirked a brow. “And I didn’t even start begging yet.”

That caught Anders’ attention in a whole different way. “You were planning to beg?”

“Maybe. I won’t need to, though.”

“I never said I would go with you!” Anders was quick to point out and straightened his back, craning his neck to better look into Fenris face. His boyfriend’s hands were on his sides, trailing along the hem of his shirt and on the barely-there patch of skin he could reach without slipping his fingers under the clothing.

“And yet I am positively sure,” Fenris purred, leaning close until they were breathing the same air, “that I won’t be the one doing the begging in the end.”

Instead of protesting, Anders kissed him.

 

***

 

“This is a terrible idea,” Anders kept mumbling to himself as he walked beside Fenris who had picked him up from work so they could walk to the Hanged Man together. Fenris didn’t react to the mumbling like he had the whole way but he squeezed Anders’ hand with his own.

Anders was beginning to understand why Fenris never wore gloves or was seemingly dressed inappropriately - he seemed to be warm all the time, his hand warming up Anders’ and even though it had snowed his sneakers were present as ever. He had bought a new beanie though since the old one was on Anders’ head and every time Fenris watched his boyfriend put it on he smiled.

The closer they came to the Hanged Man, the more nervous Anders got. After telling Fenris he’d save them from Carver’s performance he had thought it was obvious he had mostly been joking - but Fenris wouldn’t let go of the topic until Anders agreed half-heartedly, which was probably why Fenris picked him up from work: to make sure he really came. What should he even say? Would they be mad at him, yell at him? How should he treat Fenris? Would Isabela corner him? Was Carver really as bad as Fenris said?

They reached the door and Anders stopped walking, staring at the familiar sign. Fenris didn’t notice it as first but turned when he did, looking up at Anders with a calm expression.

“Anders, I promise they will not be mad at you,” he said and stepped closer to hug Anders, pushing his hands in the big coat’s pockets. “The worst thing will be Bela’s innuendoes.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I’ve known them for far longer than you, remember? Or at least I’ve spent the past few years seeing them almost every week,” Fenris smiled soothingly, rubbing Anders’ hips through the fabric and pressed a firm kiss to his lips. “Trust me.”

Anders took a deep breath, then nodded. They took each other’s hands again, squeezing tightly, and Fenris pushed the door open and led Anders inside.

The group was in the back already, pushing chairs and tables to the side so they would have space for their playing. Carver spotted the newcomers first, nodding over the table he was carrying easily (the way he wore a tank top for the task was almost definitely deliberate).

“Yo, Fenris. Hey Anders.”

At the latter name, several other heads whipped around. There was a gasp from Bethany, a hopeful grin from Hawke and then a squeak from Isabela - she had immediately noticed that they were holding hands. Of course.

“I knew it!” she screeched and bounced on her tiptoes, making her black and blue hair fly around. “You owe me 5 sovereigns!”

Money exchanged hands (mainly between Varric, Bethany and Isabela) while Merrill came over to hug and greet Anders.

“I’m glad you came,” she said with a big smile that was so sincere that Anders felt like crying. “They’ve been talking about this bet the whole time but nobody tells me what it is about…”

“It’s about the two of them,” Hawke explained as he stepped closer as well, a smile on his face too, even though there was something melancholic in it. Still, he hugged Anders like he always did, tight and with enthusiasm. “I’m glad you stopped by too. I was so worried… You’re fine, aren’t you?”

Ander cleared his throat and swallowed down lump that kept him from speaking. “I’m fine, yeah. I’m... Hawke, I’m sorry for just running. It just came up so suddenly and I... couldn’t bring myself to come back.” He shifted and swallowed again. “I cannot promise that I’ll take part on the play, but I would like to help, or at least support you, if you’ll let me.”

“Of course we’ll let you!” Hawke’s face was bright as he laughed and hugged Anders again. “I missed you. Heck, we all missed you!”

He stepped back to let Bethany and the others greet him as well but all too soon the topic was brought back to something else Anders had wanted to avoid.

“So, the two of you are really together?” Hawke asked quietly and Anders hated how careful he sounded.

Luckily Fenris answered for him. “We are. It… was a bit of a bumpy start, but now…” He took Anders’ hand and squeezed it while looking at his boyfriend, making Anders’ heart beat faster. “It’s good.”

The melancholy returned into Hawke’s expression but his smile was genuine. “As long as both of you are happy, I support you with all my heart,” he said and hugged the two of them together and quite easily with those long arms of his. “That might make your roles a bit awkward though! They hate each other in the play.”

Falling back into the usual routine was easy for Anders after that. He joined in the warming-up exercises meant to ready the voice and he was handed a spare script by Varric to follow the lines while the others played.

For now, they mostly tried to go through scene after scene and try out different ways of playing it - no need to speak freely yet so everyone had their own copy of the script.

Anders also became a witness of Carver’s acting abilities. He was... not entirely without talent. There certainly was something about him as a possessed mage, but the way he overdid some emotions and completely disregarded others would fit more into slapstick than theatre. It was hard not to laugh and Anders had to feign the odd coughing fit that earned him raised brows from Fenris and knowing grins from Isabela.

When Carver had to leave, everyone relaxed, looking at Anders expectantly and he sighed, agreeing to at least step in for Carver while he was gone.

It was weird to have Fenris snarl at him but the way he still held his hand and nuzzled against him when they weren’t on stage made up for it easily and in the end Anders had to admit it was fun, especially when he got to hold a dramatic monologue and Hawke pretended to stab him for one of the closing scenes.

“Maybe playing a crazy mage revolutionary fits you better than assumed,” Fenris said in amusement later when they were sitting at the lower level of the Hanged Man with the rest of the group to enjoy the evening.

“Yeah? Better than an escaped slave fits you?” Anders countered and Fenris snorted.

“So you’ve made up your mind, Blondie?” Varric asked and ignored the dark look Fenris shot his way. “Will you spare our audience the sight of Carver in a wig and robes?”

Anders laughed and shrugged, “I'm… not entirely averse to the idea of taking the role, I admit. But I have to think about it.”

He smiled when Fenris squeezed his thigh under the table, leaning close to press a chaste kiss on his cheek that had make Bethany and Bela coo across the table.

“Whether you decide to take the role or not, know that I’ll have your back,” he said quietly but firmly. “As do Hawke and the others.”

Anders nodded because he knew it was true and his smile widened - having to make the decision suddenly didn’t seem as mortifying anymore and finally the tight fist around his guts eased away.


	14. Epilogue

Even though the play had ended half an hour ago Anders was still high on the adrenaline. It was even worse than before during the hectic rush of getting everyone in the right costume and adjust the makeup, make sure the stage and lighting was right and so on.

The Hanged Man was bursting with people who had come to see the premiere of ‘The Tale of the Champion’ and stayed to congratulate the actors on the success.

Anders’ robe was still stained with fake blood and he was grateful for the staff that was part of the costume because he could lean on it as he watched the masses of people. He could see Hawke and Isabela already mingling, accepting praise nonchalantly and working their charm while being completely at ease in their costumes, but personally he still felt overwhelmed.

He had been on stage a lot during school and college but the memories seemed dull compared to the rush of adrenaline and excitement he had felt when he made his first entrance. He couldn’t wait to hear the reactions and was reasonably confident his performance had been convincing - Bethany had cried during every single one of his death scenes at the countless rehearsals, and he could have sworn he had seen Aveline wipe at her eyes one time.

“I thought you’d be back here,” a familiar voice interrupted his thoughts. It was Justice, dressed in a dark suit for the occasion, his face weirdly pinched in a way it only ever looked when he felt something he hadn’t quite expected and didn’t know how to handle it.

“The play was good,” he said and stepped closer, looking unsure whether he should hug Anders or not and ended up with an awkward patting of both feathered shoulders. “Your performance was admirable. You played the possession very believable, as goes for the passion of your character’s cause. I… didn’t quite expect that last scene though.”

He was talking about the death scene and Anders’ realized that his brother, that _Justice_ had become emotionally invested in the play.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” he said genuinely and hugged his brother. “It’s okay. I’ve been told my death monologue is very heart-breaking - I’m sure a lot of other people cried too.”

Justice huffed as dignified as possible but returned the hug. It was how Fenris found them when he escaped the bunch of admirers who appreciated his tight leather outfit a little more than was appropriate.

Justice nodded at him when he saw him and excused himself after offering to drive the two of them home (Anders declined - after all they would most likely go out for a drink to celebrate the premiere with the rest of the group).

“How are you feeling?” Fenris asked evenly as he nudged Anders’ thigh with his hip.

“I’m… good. Very good in fact.”

“No regrets?”

“None at all.” They smiled and Anders pulled Fenris into a kiss. “I think I’m glad that I took the role. It was more fun to be on stage than I remembered.” He paused, then winked. “I forgot how good it feels to make people cry.”

Fenris snorted and Anders bit his lips as he tried to come up with the courage to say what he wanted to ask. Fenris noticed his struggle and soothingly nuzzled his jaw, raising an eyebrow in question.

“I was… wondering if you would go out with me and get some fresh air with me for a bit,” Anders eventually asked, and Fenris nodded, taking his hand to lead him to the side entrance.

“What is it, love?” he prodded gently when Anders didn’t immediately speak up.

“I... want to call Surana. The Wardens, I mean, but mainly Surana,” Anders managed to say and rubbed his neck (which was itching under the long blond wig he was wearing). “I think I’m finally ready to… tell her, to apologize, I don’t know. I’m getting the feeling she won’t be as mad as I thought she’d be.”

Fenris was smiling and rose to his tiptoes to kiss Anders. “Do it. I’m very proud of you, Anders.”

Anders returned both kiss and smile and pulled his phone from where he had put it once the play was over.

“I don’t think I would have had the courage to do it if I hadn’t taken the role. And I wouldn’t have taken the role if not for you. I… I think many good things came from being with you.”

Fenris’ eyes softened and what Anders saw in them made happiness bloom inside him just as intense as the times he had seen it before.

“I love you,” he burst out before he could overthink it and blushed.

Fenris blinked slowly and smiled. “I love you too.”

They kissed, phone digging through the leather of Fenris’ costume and he laughed as he leaned back. “Now do the call before it’s too late!”

“Right!”

Anders heart was still beating wildly for a variety of reasons as he searched for Surana’s number. The beeping of the connecting line was both calming and exciting, and Fenris’ steady smile, his calm eyes grounding him as he waited.

And then Surana picked up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's done :)  
> I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing. This has been a great experience.
> 
> Thanks for reading, for comments & kudos and support & encouragement!


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